


Hear You Me

by Squishysib



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Band, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Angst, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Rated M for Sexual Situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishysib/pseuds/Squishysib
Summary: When Kitty Section gets their big break, Luka is thrilled, especially because it means he can bring Marinette along on the tour to make the band's outfits. But Luka soon finds he has stiff competition for her affections in the form of Adrien Agreste, an amazing singer and all-around good guy. Luka doesn't know what to do, but he's sure he'll figure it out.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 120





	1. The World You Love

_The World You Love_

_I got a story it's almost finished  
_ _all I need is someone to tell it too  
_ _maybe, that's you._

Marinette wasn’t really sure how she had managed to end up here.   
  
_Here_ of course being hunched over her sewing machine at three in the morning, desperately trying to finish last minute costumes for a band she had never met as a favor for Nathaniel.  
  
Sure, she had shared classes with at least three of the band's members for the better part of her childhood, but she’s relatively certain that she hasn’t exchanged more than a passing word with any of them other than Juleka over the past couple of years. Not since she had gone off to pursue her dream of building her own fashion empire at least. And how well _that_ little endevor had worked out, she grumbled to herself. She hadn’t gone in expecting to make it big immediately in the cut throat industry, especially in a place like New York City, one of the fashion hubs of the world. But she had at least thought that her teachers’ glowing reviews and recommendations would have landed her some kind of internship at one of the bigger named fashion houses within the city.  
  
When no such offer came, however, Marinette had been forced to move back to Paris. Back into her parents bakery while she started a part-time job as a seamstress at one of the many local bridal boutiques. Her only consultation was the fact that Paris happened to be the location of her dream job at her dream fashion house. The very one that had inspired her love of the industry and set her to sewing little outfits for her dolls at the tender age of seven: _Gabriel_ .  
  
“Motherfuck - . . “ Shaking her right hand out, Marinette stared down at the small pinprick on her finger--that was already welling with blood--as if it had personally offended her. She dropped the article of clothing she had been working on before making her way to the bathroom, mumbling under her breath all the way. _Why_ had she agreed to this? She had never been particularly close to Nathaniel, but both he and Juleka had ambushed her one day after work to plead for her help. Nathaniel was too busy with client requests from his growing art business to whip up some last minute custom outfits. And like the sucker she was, it hadn’t even taken more than thirty seconds of their begging for her to cave and reluctantly agree.   
  
So here she was, only halfway through the last piece of clothing she needed to finish, and it was now ticking closer to 4am, a quick glance at her nightstand clock told her. Mechanically, Marinette washed and bandaged her finger while beginning to tick off just what she still had to accomplish in the next twenty four hours in her head. Just tonight she had to finish the last of the band's outfits, why they even _needed_ extravagant outfits for what amounted to a talent show was beyond her understanding. She needed to get some semblance of sleep before waking up bright and early to help her parents in the bakery like she did every morning. Half a shift at the boutique that would surely double in size when she got stuck working on all the more challenging alternations none of her co-workers wanted to handle. She had to be at the recording studio right after to start the alterations on the multitude of clothing she had spent the past few days whipping up. Marinette could only pray that there wouldn’t be too many needed. After all that she could finally relax when they all went out to celebrate, Nathaniel had promised her all the drinks she wanted in return for helping him out with the band's last minute outfits.  
  
Flipping off the light in her bathroom, Marinette slid back into place in front of her sewing machine, glaring down at the offending piece of clothing with more heat then a small dollop of blood warranted. She picked it up to examine what she had last been working on, silently praying that in her anger at the situation she hadn’t ruined the piece by negligently throwing it away. There were no tears or loose threads in the fabric, but she bit back a groan of frustration regardless. Hidden from plain view on one of the under-folds of the shirt was a tiny pinprick of blood. Nothing to do about it now, the new owner of the shirt would just have to deal with wearing her literal blood, sweat, and tears.  
  
With a quick glance back at the clock again, Marinette huffed to herself in annoyance before hunkering down to finish what she had so naively promised to deliver.  
  


* * *

  
_Tap, tap, tap.  
  
_Luka rhythmically tapped his foot along to the beat streaming from his earbuds, patiently waiting for the street light to turn green. He was doing his best to stay as calm and collected as possible, but his nerves were wound tight. He was on his way to a local studio where they were auditioning bands to feature as opening acts a yet-to-be-named artist’s tour around France. Luka had been sure the band was doomed when Rose dropped out as their singer last year to focus on her matchmaking business. Only Juleka’s quiet encouragement that she had heard him singing in the shower for the past twenty years now, and that he had a perfectly acceptable singing voice, had pushed the band to continue on. He was hoping that this would be _Kitty Secton’s_ big break. That the past few months of adjusting to a new vocalist would make it all worth it.  
  
The light turned green, and with one last quick glance up and down the street, Luka made his way through the crosswalk. Making a beeline for the building that read _Record Star Studios_ , the blue-haired man dug out his weekend pass to flash at the security guard. He wasn’t sure what big names recorded here enough to warrant security, but he seriously doubted any of them were here this weekend with the building crawling with potential fans.  
  
Slipping inside, Luka paused at the list taped just inside the door, scanning down the list for his band’s name. Locating their information, he turned and began following the arrows plastered on the walls to the studio changing rooms hidden deep within the building. Finding the door with _Kitty Section_ ’s name taped on it, Luka opened the door and slipped in, stopping short at the scene that greeted him.  
  
In the middle of the room, Marc was standing stock still on top of what looked to be a grey tufted ottoman that had been placed in the room for comfort but was now pulling double duty as some sort of step stool. On her knees and slowly rotating her way around the still boy was a dark-haired woman Luka had never met. He couldn’t see her face, but judging by the hard ridge of her shoulders he gathered that she was rather focused, or frustrated, by whatever she was doing to the pair of pants Marc was wearing.  
  
Juleka was sitting on a couch that matched the makeshift stool, watching the entire scene with a smile half hidden behind her hand. Alix, predictably, wasn’t paying attention to anything besides filling the otherwise quiet room with the gentle rapping of her drumsticks against the side table.  
  
“Where’s Nathaniel?” Luka asked as he closed the door behind him and made his way over to his sister and their pink-haired friend. Juleka was the only one of either of them that acknowledged his question, but it wasn’t his purple-haired sister that answered. Instead it was the woman hunched at Marc’s feet that bit out an irritated “Busy!” before standing and turning to the rest of the party with a disgruntled look on her face.  
  
Luka glanced behind him before doing a double take and turning fully around to face her. She was a pretty woman, her dark hair pinned into two identical side buns that had obviously begun to lose their slick neatness from sometime earlier in the day. She wore a pretty half-pinafore dress in grey, rows of lace winding up the straps, with a white ruffled shirt underneath. Before he could continue his perusal of her admittedly cute outfit, she turned to Marc to wave him off the stool before turning her attention back to Luka and spending a full minute looking him up and down critically.   
  
“Well, I shouldn't need too many alterations thankfully. Strip.”  
  
Luka’s face went red instantly, glancing between the woman who continued to glare at him as if he was the world’s slowest dress-up doll and Marc, who just smiled and shrugged at him sympathetically.  
  
“Uh. . . “  
  
The woman turned and bent to retrieve a plastic bag from the pile that he hadn’t even noticed sitting next to the lighted vanity. Luka felt his face go even redder if at all possible, trying and failing to look away as the short dress rode higher, letting him see the small strip of creamy skin between where her skirt ended and the tall stockings she was wearing began. She whipped around and walked close enough to shove the bag into his arms before gesturing to the room’s attached bathroom with an exasperated expression.  
  
Finally he seemed to get the message, and with one confused look to the still smiling Juleka, Luka made his way over and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He started at the closed door for a few moments before clicking the lock. That woman was scary, and he wasn’t sure he trusted her not to barge in and start sticking him with needles.   
  
Pulling off his clothes, Luka strained to hear exactly what the others were talking about in his absence. Juleka seemed to have finally given in to her urge for laughing, bringing a smile to his face. It was good to hear his sister laughing when she did it so rarely, even if it was at his expense. He could no longer hear the gentle _tap tap_ of Alix’s drumsticks, meaning the woman must finally be participating in the conversation somewhat. Marc was apologizing for putting Marinette - that was her name apparently, and it was a very pretty name if he was being honest - in this last minute position. It came with the promise that Nathaniel would make it up to her tonight when they all went out to celebrate.  
  
Marinette’s soft laughter filled the room beyond the bathroom door, and Luka paused to stare at it until the sound dissipated and she began speaking too quietly for him to hear. She had a beautiful laugh, like a melody that now played in his head on loop. Shaking his head to dislodge the sound, which didn’t go anywhere, he turned his attention back to finishing stripping down, mildly afraid of what would happen should he take too long.  
  
Still vaguely listening to their soft chatter, Luka stripped down to his boxers, pausing a moment before pulling off the various pieces of jewelry he was wearing. _Better safe than sorry with that one_ , he thought to himself. Dumping it all in the bag he had brought with him, he hauled the bag Marinette had shoved at him to inspect the neatly-folded clothes within.  
  
“Dupain-Cheng bakery?” He mumbled to himself after reading the side of the bag. He was pretty sure he had heard of the place before, but had never actually gone himself. He could remember Juleka raving about some type of pastry they made once upon a time.  
  
Pulling the pants on top out, Luka unfolded them to give them a critical once over. They were a dark-washed, almost black, denim material. For the most part, they looked like normal jeans, with the exception of the few faux zippers running across the thighs that broke up the otherwise plain expanse. They were nice, in his opinion. Not something he would necessarily wear normally in his everyday life, but they definitely fit well enough with the overall vibe _Kitty Section_ was trying to portray with the band’s clothing. Taking a quick peek inside to learn the manufacturer so he could maybe buy a few more like pieces, Luka was surprised to see nothing other than a fancy little monogrammed M. It didn’t look mass produced, and for a moment further he was surprised that the woman had actually personally made all the items they would be wearing on stage.  
  
Nathaniel hadn’t been the best with a needle and thread, but he had tried his best to customize the pieces of clothing they either bought or already owned. Marinette, however, seemed to be the real deal, and he wondered for a moment just where Marc and Nathaniel had found her. Luka was startled out of his silent musings by a sudden pounding on the locked bathroom door as the woman in question’s irritated voice floated through.  
  
“Hurry up in there! We’re on a time crunch!”  
  
“I’ll be right out!” Luka quickly pulled on the jeans, and holy hell were they tight. Marinette must have been basing her measurements on Marc, who he was sure had never worked out a day in his life. Luka on the other hand, enjoyed a good run, or a few sweaty hours at the gym. Especially after taking up the role of vocalist in addition to guitarist, cardio and breath control were so important.  
  
Quickly pulling on the shirt, a plain black thing with a hand stitched _Kitty Section_ logo over his heart, Luka grabbed the last item folded at the bottom of the bag. A sleeveless vest made of what he hoped was black faux leather, small black studs lining each edge. Hurriedly shrugging it on, he unlocked the door to find Marinette still standing there, hands on her hips and looking adorably irritated.  
  
Biting his tongue to keep from saying exactly that out loud, Luka patiently stood while she looked him up and down slowly. Pulling him out of the doorway, Marinette walked a slow lap around him, pausing to stare at his back for a few moments longer than normal. Coming back to his front, she nodded to herself before gesturing over to the same ottoman he had seen Marc standing on when he had first come in.  
  
“Hop on up.”  
  
Awkwardly, Luka moved to obey, trying his best not to bend his legs too much in fear of ripping the pants. Once on top, he took to shifting back and forth on the uneven surface as he watched Marinette continue to circle around him. Abruptly she reached out to run a hand down the inseam of his pants, causing the blue-haired man to tense up in embarrassed confusion. She didn’t even seem to notice, mumbling to herself before pulling away and continuing her circuit around him. What _was_ that woman thinking, he wondered.  
  
“Well, I can’t let it out a whole lot. But I can give you a little more breathing room. So go ahead and take them off.”  
  
Marinette turned to dig through her supplies. She turned back to face him, a needle in one hand, dark thread in another, and an expectant look on her face. Glancing around, _was he allowed to go back to the bathroom?_ , Luka slowly bent over at the waist. He undid the pants and began the process of slowly inching them down his legs, pausing only briefly to make sure his boxers didn’t go with them. That’s just what he needed, to moon his sister and band mates. Finally slipping them all the way off, he straightened back up to hand them over to the seamstress.  
  
Marinette, though, was zeroed in on his legs, a pretty blush slowly creeping its way up her face. Alix’s barking laughter behind the both of them seemed to startle her out of her staring, and she grabbed the pants from him more roughly then she perhaps meant too. She mumbled something none of them could hear before retreating to the seat at the vanity and hunching over the pants.  
  
With a mildly confused glance in her direction, Luka settled himself down between Juleka and Marc on the couch. Watching the seamstress out of the corner of his eye, the vocalist angled himself towards the only other male in the band to ask the question that had been plaguing him since walking into the dressing room.  
  
“So how do you guys know Marinette?”  
  
He had thought maybe it was just Marc and Nathaniel who had known the woman, as they seemed to be the ones making promises about making this entire situation up to her, but it was Juleka who answered him.  
  
“Marinette went to school with us. She moved back a few months ago after attending fashion school in New York.” His sister mumbled at him, most of her focus on her phone, presumably texting her girlfriend.  
  
The group fell silent, absorbed back into their own things: Marc and Juleka texting significant others, and Alix tapping out a steady beat between her legs on the couch cushion. Luka continued to watch Marinette as she worked, enjoying watching all the little quirks as she sewed. Like how she tended to bite her tongue, the tip sticking out just between her lips when she focused on what he assumed was a particularly challenging stitch. Or how she apparently talked to the article of clothing in her hands. He couldn’t hear her, but he wished he could know what she was mumbling about. Was she trying to coax out the perfection of the piece with pretty words? Or was she busy cursing the unwilling fabric for ruining her vision?  
  
Time passed by in the room mostly silently with everyone absorbed in what they were doing. Checking his phone again, Luka began to worry that he would have to go on stage without matching pants if Marinette didn’t finish her alterations soon. But he wasn’t really willing to disturb the woman and bring her aggravation back in full force. Luckily he didn’t have to when five minutes later the seamstress finally stood up. She made her way towards the ottoman, still looking over what she had just finished stitching with a critical eye.  
  
“Alright, you can come over and - “ Whatever she had been about to say was cut off when she looked up and seemingly remembered what he had been lounging around in his boxers this entire time.  
  
Deciding to take pity on the poor woman, Luka hopped up and made his way over to her. He would later deny quite vehemently, no matter what Juleka said, that he had _not_ sauntered over to her. Taking the pants from Marinette with a grin at her still slightly dumbfounded expression, Luka leaned over to slip the pants back on. This time around they slid on much easier. Still tight, but not so tight that he feared he’d be splitting them in half if he so much as twisted the wrong way.  
  
“This is much better, thank you Marinette.”  
  
Hearing her name seemed to shake her out of her stupor. She smiled at him, the first genuinely happy one he had seen all night, not a hint of annoyance or frustration to be seen. Marinette ran another appreciative glance up and down the guitarist, seeming to admire her work, and hopefully the model wearing it.  
  
“You’re very welcome. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name though.”  
  
Another grin flitted over his face. “Luka.”  
  
A light-bulb seemed to go off in her head as her eyes flew from him to Juleka and then back to him, undoubtedly taking in the similarities in their features. She didn’t say anything however, instead focusing her efforts back on his look.  
  
“One last thing, I think.”  
  
Turning on her heel, Marinette made her way into the bathroom, and a startled moment later he realized she was rummaging through his bag. There was nothing else in there besides the clothing and jewelry he had been wearing when he arrived, so he wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for in there. She came back out holding a small selection of his jewelry. A few necklaces, two bracelets, and a single ring. All ones that matched his current outfit the most. Wordlessly she held them out to him. He accepted them one at a time, slipping them on.  
  
A dazzling smile lit up Marinette’s face as she gave him one last glance over, and he felt his breath catch at the sight. “Perfect.”  
  
They had finished just in time it seemed, as a knock on the dressing room door echoed through their space. The harried face of some studio assistant poked in to inform them that they were wanted on stage for their audition in five minutes.  
  
Luka turned back to Marinette in curiosity as she began packing away some of her sewing supplies. “Are you going to watch?” He hoped so, she deserved to see her clothing in action, if nothing else. But he also sort of hoped she stuck around in general.  
  
Hefting the bag over her slim shoulders, Marinette turned back to him with another smile as the rest of his band mates started getting whatever they were bringing with them situated. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

* * *

  
Amid all the hustle and bustle of setting the stage up, Marinette found herself more or less shoved into a small corner of the room they were holding all the auditions in. She still wasn’t exactly sure what they were auditioning for, only that it obviously involved something in the music industry. Clutching her bags to her chest, she glanced up at the stage before averting her eyes and feeling her cheeks heat at the sight of the vocalist, _Luka_ , tuning his guitar.  
  
She had never met Juleka’s brother before today, and she was semi-grateful for it. She had no idea how she would have managed to function during her more hormone-driven teenage years had she been around him with any frequency. It was bad enough already that she had been checking him out basically all afternoon. Marinette is just glad he didn’t seem to notice when she had stopped to stare at his ass for a good minute when he had first come out of the bathroom wearing her creations.  
  
It had only gotten worse from there, and it was obvious that the blue-haired man had been well aware of her staring. She really didn’t know what he was like as a person, Juleka had never really talked about him, but she sort of hoped the flirting back he had done was genuine and not just something he did with everyone. Reaching up to grasp at her burning cheeks Marinette shook her head, trying to knock the thoughts right out. She’d probably never even see the man again after today. She didn’t hang out with Juleka all that often, and she was always busy sewing or working as it was.  
  
Marinette was startled out of her thoughts when the soft sound of a strumming guitar filled the suddenly silent room. She hadn’t even noticed the studio executives call for the band to begin. Turning her full attention onto the band, her eyes darted over each one as she surveyed her work with a critical eye, seeing how it stood up to the test of on stage wear. She purposefully kept skipping over Luka, those tight jeans on him just looked _too_ good, it really should have been criminal.  
  
Finally she had to let her eyes slide on to the front man, her head beginning to bounce in time with the beat of whatever song they were playing. She didn’t recognize the tune, but she was enjoying both the sound and the ability to privately let her eyes trail up and down his figure without anyone the wiser. That was until he started singing, and her eyes snapped up to stare at his face.  
  
Luka’s eyes were closed, his mouth so close to the microphone he may as well have been kissing it. She had never heard the song he was singing, but whatever it was, she would definitely call herself a fan from here on out. After a moment she closed her eyes as well, allowing Luka’s softly crooning voice to weave its way through her psyche, letting whatever he was singing paint pictures in her mind.  
  
All too soon the song was over and the executives were calling an end to the performance. Luka and the band spent a few minutes talking to someone who seemed to be the main person running the show, a short, plump man in an ill-fitting suit with a balding head. Eventually he handed them a business card and retreated back to the table to continue talking with his coworkers. The band looked pleased with themselves as they packed up their things before heading out past her, Luka though stopped, almost leaning over her in her tiny corner.  
  
“Are you coming out with us to celebrate?”  
  
Marinette could only nod in response, tongue tied at having him so much in her space. She could almost imagine she could smell him this close. He smelt like old leather, the kind that's soft and supple with age, and some kind of citrus she can’t quite put her finger on. It kind of reminded her of the bakery, and that caused a small smile to stretch across her face. Luka smiled back before turning to follow the rest of their group outside.  
  
Marinette follows more slowly, quietly listening to them chat about how well they believed the audition had gone. Once outside, they stopped to form a small circle in front of the building, discussing what they would be doing next. The general consensus seemed to be meeting up at the bar where all the bands who had auditioned were going to hang out together as a mini celebration. Apparently a few more of their friends, some she even knew, would also be there in support. Marinette was definitely going; Nathaniel had promised her copious drinks in return for taking on his last-minute favor.  
  
Alix and Marc both departed with a wave and an affirmation that they would meet them all at the bar in a bit before walking in opposite directions to drop off their belongings at home first. Luka and Juleka exchanged a few words before the purple-haired woman too waved before turning to head down the same direction as Marc. Marinette glanced down at her watch while doing some quick time calculations in her head.  
  
“Well, it takes me nearly a half hour to walk home, so I guess I’ll meet you guys at the bar in about an hour. Does that sound good?” She turned to smile up at Luka, only now just realizing how much taller the vocalist was compared to her. It had been a little hard to tell when he had been towering over her on the ottoman before.  
  
Luka turned and gestured behind him, the opposite way she had to go, all the while returning her smile. “I live just a few minutes walk that way. I can give you a ride home and then to the bar if you want?”

  
Marinette pursed her lips in thought for a few moments, thinking it through. True, she hadn’t met Luka before today, but he seemed nice enough. He was also Juleka’s brother, so surely he didn’t actually pose any danger to her, right?  
  
“I would appreciate that, thank you.”  
  
They both turned to begin down the direction he had indicated earlier, walking in a companionable silence while she sent a quick text to her best friend, Alya, about what she was currently doing. Brother or no, one could never be _too_ careful after all. Stowing her phone back away, Marinette risked a quick glance at her traveling companion, who seemed content to hum softly to himself, something that sounded a lot like what they had just been playing.  
  
“So what song were you playing back there?” She wondered.  
  
Luka let out a small, almost self conscious, laugh. He reached up to run a hand through his blue-tipped hair, giving it a good ruffle before actually answering her question. “I wrote it a few years back actually. I don’t think it’s my best, personally, but everyone else really seems to like it, so I figured what the heck.”  
  
Marinette’s grin grew wider as they finally stopped outside of a tall apartment building made of old faded bricks. “Well, count me as a fan, I really enjoyed it. Just make sure you send me a free CD when you make it big, okay?”  
  
It had been made as a joke, but Luka’s look was both sincere and serious when he replied. “Marinette, you can have as many free CDs as you want.”  
  
Not exactly sure how she was supposed to respond to that, Marinette followed him up a few flights of stairs silently, stopping in front of what she assumed to be his apartment. She followed him in after he unlocked it and stayed in the front living room while he disappeared into the bedroom, “Just let me change real quick and we can be on our way.” Unable to stop her curiosity, she gave the room a cursory once over, noting the real lack of decoration in the area, as if it was a place he stayed in but didn’t really live.  
  
Noticing a lighted glass tank against the far wall in the otherwise dark room, Marinette glanced over at the room Luka disappeared through. Seeing that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, she headed over to the case and peered inside to see if she could spy just what lived in it. She didn’t see anything at first, just a small puddle that functioned as a pond, a large log like structure, and the bottom of the case covered in sand and rocks. Bending down she peered under the wood and spied a sleeping snake, its scales a pretty mix of blues.  
  
“That’s Sass.”  
  
Marinette yelped, jumping up and spinning around in surprise, her heavy bag and the sudden movement causing her to wobble. She would have fallen if not for the strong hands that grabbed at her elbows, steadying her. Taking a moment to get her bearings, Marinette took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Eventually she opened her eyes to find Luka smirking down at her in amusement.  
  
“You alright there?”  
  
“Yes, thank you. Uh, sorry about that.”  
  
Luka laughed at her apology, finally releasing her arms and gesturing inside the glass cage she had been snooping inside of. He stooped over to stare where she had seen the snake snoozing, motioning for her to join him back down on that level. Marinette bent at the waist this go, peering in at the snake, who now seemed to be awake. It stuck its head out and she was delighted to see it was an even prettier color in the light, an alternating pattern of dark and light blues, whites, and blacks.  
  
“Anyway, that’s Sass. Little guy’s been with me for a while now. I uh. . . I got kinda lonely living alone at first.” Luka admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head again.  
  
Marinette smiled kindly in his direction, understanding all too well the feeling of loneliness one got from being away from friends and family. The years she had spent in New York had been tough, and she had wanted to pack up and quit multiple times. But in the end it had all been worth it, even if she hadn’t managed to land an internship in the city.  
  
“I understand perfectly,” she murmured, enjoying spending a few quiet moments huddled up with Luka near the glass, watching as Sass tasted the air in their direction, trying to understand this new person in his home.  
  
Luka stood back up, helping her back up along with him. He was still wearing the _Kitty_ _Section_ shirt she had made and literally bled for, but he had ditched the vest. She was momentarily disappointed that he had apparently also ditched the pants she had made, but was pleased to see that he was still wearing a pair of tight, dark jeans.  
  
“Alright, let’s get out of here before Juleka starts blowing up my phone, thinking I kidnapped you.” They both shared a laugh at that, especially knowing such feelings were more than likely fueled by Juleka’s girlfriend, Rose.  
  
After locking his apartment, Luka led her down a small back set of stairs to a car garage that she hadn’t noticed attached to the back of the building. He led her through rows upon rows of cars before coming to a stop in front of a sleek-looking motorcycle.  
  
“Er. . . “ Marinette glanced down at her dress in concern.  
  
Luka turned back to her, a plain white helmet held in his hands, before seeing the look on her face and understanding her dilemma.  
  
“Ah shit, I didn’t even think. . . Sorry.”  
  
Marinette waved him off, taking the helmet and pushing her buns down flat when she strapped it down on her head. She’d be fine, he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, and she wasn’t worried about some random passerby managing to catch a half second glimpse under her skirts. “It’ll be fine, it’s a short drive anyway.”  
  
Luka climbed on the bike, kicking the kickstand up and revving the engine to life before beckoning her to climb on behind him. Marinette climbed on, squishing her bag down in between them. She wrapped her arms loosely around his middle, until he laughed, “You have to hold on tighter or you’re going to go flying off!” Tightening her arms, she grabbed up fistfuls of his shirt, suddenly afraid of falling off, but she tried to trust that Luka wouldn’t let anything happen to her.  
  
After one last rev of the engine, Luka began walking them out of the parking space. When they were clear of the rows of cars, they meandered through the garage towards the light leading to outside. They paused long enough at the entrance to make sure there were no other cars coming before they darted out onto the street in the direction she indicated.   
  
At the first stoplight, Marinette pointed to the left. "That way," she said, leaning right up on his shoulder so he could hear her over the noise of the street.  
  
Luka nodded his head toward her bag as best he could. "Do you live at that bakery?"  
  
"Uh yeah, why?"  
  
"I kinda know where it is!" He said, finally making the turn. "Never been inside, personally, but it looks cute. Been by it plenty of times."  
  
"It's on Rue Gotlib, by Place des Vosges," Marinette added for clarification.  
  
"Awesome."  
  
Content to let him drive now that she no longer needed to relay directions, Marinette settled down. She rested her cheek against Luka's back and tried to enjoy the new experience of riding on a motorcycle.  
  
It wasn’t until about halfway back to her parents that she realized that sometime during the ride her hands had unfisted themselves from his shirt. One hand was drawing almost lazy patterns on his chest, while the other one was splayed flat against his toned stomach. Blushing scarlet, Marinette locked both her hands in an effort to prevent herself from feeling up her ride again, but confused when the seemingly relaxed Luka tensed up in response.   
  
Marinette was about ready to die from shame when they pulled to a stop outside the bakery. She jumped off the motorcycle quickly and with far less grace then she would have wanted. Thankfully, Luka didn’t say anything about her blatantly molesting him.He just took the helmet back with a smile, “I’ll wait right here for you to come back."  
  
Still red, Marinette squeaked out a mumbled response, “I’ll um. . . Ah I’ll be right back!” Her mother watched her enter and head towards the back, blessedly not commenting on the color of her daughter’s face. When Marinette disappeared up the stairs, pausing only long enough to watch her mother turn to look out the window with a curious stare.  
  
A few minutes later, Marinette appeared back downstairs, now wearing a light jacket with her hair buns once more pristine. She stopped just long enough to endure the teasing when she said she’d be home late, and to pursue the bakery’s selection of macarons. After a moment she scoops up the lemon meringue, pin pointing it as the scent she had smelled earlier coming off of him. Making her way back to Luka’s side, she offered up the treat with a strained smile.   
  
“It’s a little thank you for driving me here and then to the bar. I really appreciate it.” Luka stared at the macaron for a moment before taking it and popping it into his mouth. He smiled at her, slowly chewing his treat before handing her back her helmet and leaning forward on the bike so she could climb back on behind him.  
  
“It’s my pleasure, Marinette. Especially for treats like this.”  
  
Marinette glanced up from carefully securing the helmet back on in an attempt to spare her hair, to find Luka staring at her with a quiet intensity. She didn’t think the treat he was talking about had been the macaron. Not knowing what to say in return, Marinette climbed back on the bike, wrapping her arms tightly around him and locking her hands together, determined this time not to feel him up.  
  
Marinette gave one last wave to her mom watching them through the window before Luka revved the motorcycle back to life and took off down the mostly empty street. Marinette buried her face into his back, enjoying the breeze that rushed past, the brunt of the chill blocked by Luka’s warm body. She found herself humming what she could remember of the song from earlier in the day, and realized when they stopped at another red light that Luka had started humming along with her.  
  
They passed by the recording studio, as well as Luka’s apartment building, before turning into a small parking garage a few blocks further on. After they parked, Luka held out a hand to steady her as she climbed down from the bike. She stowed the helmet she had used in the pack she had first seen him dig it out of. Patting her hair down and back into place, Marinette waited patiently while Luka turned the bike off and secured his own helmet down on the seat.  
  
“Come on, let’s see if we can find anyone.”   
  
Marinette followed the much taller Luka through the small crowd milling around the entrance of the parking lot and around the door into the bar. She glanced up at the sign just before walking over the threshold, _The Suckle_. Not a place she had visited before - not that she had found many chances to go out since moving back to Paris.  
  
They quickly found their friends gathered around a high top table, already seemingly well into their drinks if the empty glasses littering the surface were any indication. She slid up next to Juleka and Rose, exchanging a hug with the short girl decked out all in pink. Luka knelt down over her, moving close enough to be heard over the din of the establishment and sending a shiver down her spine when his warm breath puffed over her skin, asking her, “So what would you like to drink?”  
  
“Mmm, a vodka and coke for now, thanks.”  
  
Luka’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, probably expecting her to drink something pink and sweet. Not that she didn’t like those kinds of drinks, but sometimes she just preferred something simple. He turned to leave but paused when Marinette hooked her hand in his, pulling him back into her space for just a moment.  
  
“Don’t you dare pay for it, when that one -” She pointed over at Nathaniel, who was hanging all over Marc, clearly already on his way to being tipsy. “- promised me copious amounts of alcohol for bailing him out.”  
  
Luka rolled his eyes at the scene the couple were making before slipping away towards the bar with nothing but a shrug at her proclamation. Marinette shook her head in exasperation, turning back to her friend group, all smiles and happy to catch up with the few people she hadn’t seen in a good while.  
  
Rose’s business seemed to be thriving, which wasn’t all that surprising. She had always been quite the matchmaker in school. Nathaniel was obviously doing well, now starting to gain commissions from companies themselves. She wasn’t sure exactly what Marc did, just something in editing was all she knew. Juleka was finishing up her studies in social services, and Alix was still working at a garage in downtown Paris.  
  
A hand with chipping black paint on the nails and still wearing the fat silver ring she had picked out for him appeared in her line of vision, along with her drink which he set on a napkin in front of her. Marinette turned to smile at Luka as he climbed onto the stool next to her. The musician took a swig of his beer before leaning forward to participate in the spirited debate that was picking up between Marc and Alix over the current relationship status of the main characters on Paris’ hit show.  
  
Marinette felt her mouth go so dry she quickly gulped down a good quarter of her drink. Twisting down his inner arm and wrapping around his outer bicep before disappearing into his shirt sleeve was a perfect rendition of Sass in ink. How had she missed _that_? She had clearly been too focused on the clothes when she had been playing dress up with him to pay attention to much else. The clothes and his ass, if she wanted to be honest with herself.  
  
Marinette took a few moments to actually take him in, her eyes following his movements as he lifted the beer bottle to his lip. She traced the snake tattoo with her eyes, admiring the same colors she had seen on the actual snake earlier in the night, and trying her best to peek over at his other arm. She was almost disappointed to not see anything else poking out from his shirtsleeve. Luka’s sudden uproarious laughter, along with the rest of the table bursting out into laughter, snapped her out of her perusal and she turned back to the group and her drink, her cheeks dusted a pretty pink as she tried to join in on whatever had the group in stitches.  
  
She needed to pull herself together. She probably wasn’t even going to see Luka again after tonight. Besides, she was just a boring, old seamstress, she groused to herself. Not someone who would be on the radar of a rock-star in the making. The door to the bar opened with a bang, quieting the area and bringing everyone’s attention over to the opening. The executives from the audition were standing at the threshold.  
  
“We just wanted to thank everyone that showed up today! The results will be emailed out tomorrow, so for now enjoy a drink on us!”  
  
That proclamation brought more cheers as the auditioners turned to shuffle back out of the establishment. Marinette quickly finished off the rest of her drink before hopping off her stool. Luka stopped her before she could take another step.  
  
“Stay, I’ll get us both new drinks,” he told her with an easy smile.  
  
Marinette returned his smile but gestured to the hallway on the other side of the building. “Thanks, I just have to run to the bathroom real quick.”  
  
They went their separate ways, he to the bar, and she to weave her way through the crowd, which included a small group of women at the entrance to the hallway who were all giggling over something or someone. The bathroom was thankfully empty, and she did her business before taking a moment in the mirror to fluff her hair back up. When had she gotten so vain, exactly? Shaking her head in exasperation, Rose was really starting to get to her, Marinette turned to leave.  
  
By the time she got out, the small gaggle of women who had been near blocking the way in seemed to have dispersed, leaving behind a lone man with sharp, handsome features and artificial, perfectly-combed blond hair who seemed to zero in on her presence with a smile she could only call creepy.

* * *

  
  
Luka waited patiently about halfway back to their table, foot tapping along to some beat that definitely wasn’t playing out of the overhead bar speakers. He was waiting for Marinette, wanting to make sure that she could get back easily through the continually growing crowd. He felt a small smile break out over his face when she finally emerged from the bathroom. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this cute woman that he’d only met today that brought out the flirty side of the usually stoic guitarist, but he definitely wanted to know more. The smile quickly morphed into a frown however when the strangely-familiar blond man, who had been sitting at the table closest to the hallway, got up and approached her.  
  
They exchanged a few words, the blond slowly inching his way into her personal space, and Marinette’s face slowly getting redder and redder. Luka wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. The blond leaned in even closer, one arm on the wall to support himself while he hovered over the much shorter woman, almost close enough for their noses to touch. He decided finally that she looked uncomfortable, not the cute embarrassed she got around him, and was about to head over to help her out when the small girl he had just met today -- the girl he had falsely believed might be more bark than bite when it came to her anger -- reared as far back as she could manage and punched the blond right in his perfect nose.  
  
“Holy shit,” Luka whispered to himself, eyes alight with wonder. “I think I love her.”


	2. Step One

_Step One_

_Friend, I mean I'll call you  
_ _in the daytime out in the open  
_ _friend, you know what I really mean  
_ _know exactly what I could be_

  
Marinette woke with a pounding headache and feeling like she had tried to swallow a fistful of cotton. Without lifting her head or opening her eyes to the painful sunlight streaming into her room, she groped around the bed searching for her phone wanting to see the time and any messages she may have missed. Her hand hit something cool and metal before it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Marinette groaned before moving to crawl to the edge of her bed, and she poked her head over to stare down blearily at the phone she had just knocked off. The screen blinked _11:14am_ back at her.  
  
Rolling onto her back, she picked up one of her many pillows and buried her face in it to muffle her tired moans. She hadn’t gotten home until nearly three am last night, having had too much fun hanging out with friends she rarely got to see, as well as enjoying not having to buy a single drink thanks to both Nathaniel and Luka.  
  
 _Luka_. Fuck. The blue-haired man had stopped drinking about halfway through the night and had been sober enough to offer her a ride back to her parents so she didn’t have to walk in the middle of the night or pay an exuberant taxi fee. And Marinette, sloshed and thought she was good at flirting Marinette, had agreed. She remembered quite vividly spending the entire ride home shamelessly feeling up Luka’s toned chest, even going so far as to compliment him on his workout routine.  
  
Marinette wanted her bed to swallow her whole at this very moment. Even if Luka had been sweet about the whole situation, politely doing his best to ignore her blatant molestation and not making any effort to take advantage of her in her inebriated state, she still felt mortified. Kicking her legs out in aggravation, she rolled back over to scoop up her phone and began scrolling through her messages.  
  
One from her job asking her to cover an evening shift: _delete_ . Another from Alya from earlier in the morning wanting to be sure that she had gotten home okay and was still alive. Marinette typed a quick confirmation to her, asking if she wanted to meet up in a few hours for a late lunch. Nathaniel had texted, long after she had already fallen asleep, thanking her profusely again for bailing him out and helping his boyfriend’s band. Based on the number of typos and emojis in the message, he had still been quite drunk when he’d sent the message. Continuing to scroll, Marinette stopped on an unread message from a number she didn’t recognize. With a curious tilt to her head, she clicked it open.  
  
 _Hope your night wasn’t too bad and you woke up not feeling like total shit! Last night was fun, hope we all get to hang out again.  
  
_ She wasn’t sure exactly who it had come from, but she could reasonably guess that Luka had gotten her number from his sister. Or sometime during the night inebriated Marinette had shared it herself. Regardless, she felt a shy smile stretching across her face. It was sweet of him to check in on her. Her phone started ringing abruptly. In a startled panic, Marinette almost dropped it again.   
  
The screen flashed Nathaniel’s name at her and she rushed to answer. How was this man even awake? He had texted her, still totally sloshed, no less than five hours ago. “Hello?” With pursed lips, Marinette listened to him ramble on, sounding like he hadn’t slept at all. Apparently, the studio had news and wanted to meet the entire band that night at some restaurant to talk and meet some other people in the company.  
  
“And get this, Luka _insisted_ you be invited as well,” Nathaniel told her smugly.  
  
Marinette blinked in surprise, trying to process this new piece of information in her sleep-addled brain. “He what? Why would he do that?” She continued to listen to Nathaniel prattle on, managing to absorb at least every other word. Something about how her clothing had been a key component in their success? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t really sure that _clothes_ had anything to do with them impressing the studio executives either. That had all been Luka in her opinion.   
  
After confirming the time for a _very_ late dinner -- didn’t executives ever eat at normal times? -- at a restaurant on the more expensive side of Paris, Marinette hung up before letting her head flop back down on her bed. Her calm day had just become anything but. With a groan, she pulled herself out of bed and made her way into the bathroom, dropping articles of clothing as she went.  
  


* * *

  
Marinette glanced at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. Alya was waiting for her at their favorite little corner cafe, and if she was much later she wouldn't have any time to spend with her best friend before Alya had to return to her job as a journalist. Watching the numbers tick down on the street crossing monitor, the dark-haired woman darted over the cross walk before it had barely ticked zero. She practically threw herself into the deck chair at their preferred table a few seconds later.  
  
Alya, who had already been sitting there sipping an iced tea and scrolling through her phone, jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of her best friend. Shoving her phone back into her purse, the redhead leaned up on the table, smirking at Marinette while taking in her disheveled state.  
  
“Well spill, how did last night go?” Leave it to Alya to get right to the meat and demand to know how the audition and night after had gone.  
  
Marinette tilted her head and stared at the other woman in confusion, not exactly sure what she was talking about. The last time she remembered talking to Alya yesterday had been when she had shot her a text in the early evening telling her where she was going. At her questioning look, Alya dug her phone back out. She scrolled through her most recent messages before coming to the saved conversation she shared with Marinette. Peeking over, Marinette saw that whatever she had sent seemed to be filled with random letters and emojis that she did _not_ remember sending. Unable to make out exactly what it said at this angle, she grabbed the phone out of her friend’s hands and stared down at the enlarged text message in mortification.  
  
 _Fucjc he's so ducking hot i cnsnf handle it. I wsnt to clibf his finde ass liekd s tre 🌴🍑😏👅💦  
  
_ Marinette felt her face heat up, steadily growing a rosy red as she processed exactly what she had sent. She glanced at the time stamp of the message; _2:25am_ . She wracked her brain, trying to remember snippets of her night. She desperately tried to remember exactly what she had been doing at the time of the message. Hell what had she been doing all night? It couldn’t have been that bad if this morning Luka had willingly invited her to a dinner. . .right?  
  
The dark-haired woman handed the phone back, a dejected slump to her shoulders. The text had been sent around the same time they had all been getting ready to leave. Luka had offered to give her a ride on his bike, and had been strapping the helmet she was using on her head while she giggled about something to him. He had been all patient smiles. He had wanted her to sit in front of him on the motorcycle, the position would have been slower going, but it would have been much safer for her. Unable to physically handle the idea of being sheltered in his embrace like that for an extended period or time, Marinette had insisted that she was much more sober than she had been.  
  
The waiter came over to take their orders and Marinette took the opportunity to put off telling her friend just what had happened--or sadly what hadn’t happened last night--for a moment longer. As soon as the waiter left, Marinette buried her face in her folded arms and mumbled out a response, even though she knew it wouldn’t be enough for her nosy friend.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Marinette.” Damn her, Marinette could practically _feel_ the smug smile Alya was undoubtedly wearing.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Marinette straightened herself up before taking out her own phone to scroll through the saved pictures. Sometime during the night the entire band had insisted on taking a slew of pictures together, and for some reason they had included her. Luka had quietly asked her for one of just them, something about wanting a keepsake for when she was a famous fashion designer. Flabbergasted, she had agreed. Her feelings were clear as day in the photo, at least to her eyes. While she wasn’t as red as she was right now, her cheeks still glowed. She had an almost shy smile on, nestled in the crook of Luka’s arms while he took the picture for them. He looked so pleased with himself; he was wearing that soft smile that she adored.  
  
Wordlessly, she handed over her phone to Alya, wincing at the volume the redhead squealed at upon seeing the picture. “Oh he _is_ a handsome one. I can see why you wanted to climb all over him.”  
  
God, Marinette felt so mortified. She couldn’t believe she’d actually thought, let alone typed, that. Not that it wasn’t true, of course. Luka _was_ extremely attractive, and given other circumstances she would have been all too happy to continue their acquaintanceship. Last night she hadn’t thought she would ever see him again, and if so, only in passing whenever she hung out with Juleka. But apparently he still wanted to see _her_ , if his insistence that she be included in this dinner was any indication. Or was it just an obligation? She had spent days making clothes for them, and now he felt indebted to her? Marinette felt her stomach sinking at the thought.  
  
“So tell me about him,” Alya finally said after handing her phone back over. She leaned back as the waiter came around with their food, watching Marinette as she struggled with her words for a few moments before deflating.   
  
“He’s Juleka’s brother. He sings and plays guitar in the band.” Marinette took a sulky bite out of her own salad, chewing for far longer than necessary without saying anything. A classic stalling tactic for when she either didn’t want to say anything or when she was trying to figure out what to say. The redhead across from her continued to enjoy her own salad, probably knowing that Marinette wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut for long. Marinette knew if she didn’t spill enough of the beans now, Alya would just go digging. And then who knew _what_ she would find.  
  
“We flirted okay? Like a lot,” Marinette finally mumbled out, eyes locked on her food and cheeks steadily growing red again. “He’s really sweet and so hot it should be goddamn criminal.” Dropping her fork, the seamstress fell back in her chair, covering her face with her hands and groaning. She was now well into the over-sharing portion of her retelling. “And his ass was so fine. And his abs! Those biceps! He took his pants off in front of me for christ’s sake!” Marinette lurched forward, feeling and looking distressed as her hands flailed around, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do with them. “Who even has a body like that?!”  
  
Sure, models and actual famous people had bodies like that. But that was also because they had workout trainers, nutritionists, and _photoshop_ . Marinette had never met a person in real life that had a body she would have quite happily licked sweat from.  
  
“Well if he flirted back, that’s a good sign right?” Alya’s question didn’t get quite the reaction she had apparently been hoping for based on her confusion. Marinette just groaned louder and slumped further into her chair, salad long forgotten.  
  
“Well yeah, I guess. But I doubt he’ll even remember me after this dinner.” They wouldn't have any reason to hang out together anymore. If the band got what they were hoping for out of this meeting, she wouldn’t be seeing the others any time soon either, if ever again. In her experience, famous people tended to forget about the little people they knew before becoming famous.  
  
Alya leaned over the table to gently pat at Marinette’s arm in a placating gesture. “Look, everything will be fine,” she said in a soothing voice. Marinette slowly extracted herself from the hole she had let herself fall into, going back to moodily eating her salad. “Maybe you’ve finally met your prince charming,” the redhead continued. “Now, let me tell you all about what Nino did for our anniversary last week. . .”  
  


* * *

  
It was nearing seven in the evening by the time Marinette was able to drag herself up to her loft bedroom to get ready for the dinner with the band and executives that night. After her late lunch with Alya, Marinette had spent the rest of the afternoon helping her parents out in the bakery, taking over the baking for a few hours while her parents took care of the front of house server. It had allowed her to bake a small box of macarons to give to Luka in thanks, without her nosy parents wondering just who she was baking for. She never went out of her way to bake anything herself for anyone when her parents were so much better at the craft. But she wanted the gift to be somewhat personal.  
  
She hopped out of the shower twenty minutes later, feeling clean and tingly. Sitting at her vanity to blow dry her hair, Marinette regarded her open closet with a wary eye. What in the world could she even wear tonight? They were going to a _very_ upscale restaurant on the expensive side of Paris. Sure she had nice clothing, especially those she had made herself, which she enjoyed wearing. But none of it would hold up to the standards at _Les Papilles_ or the people she would undoubtedly be meeting there. With a sigh, she turned back to the mirror itself, beginning to apply her makeup for the night and hoping her color choices would inspire whatever she was going to pick to actually wear.  
  
She chose a heavier liner and fuller lashes as her only daring choice of the night, finishing the rest in her preferred more subtle tones, before getting up to begin rifling through her clothes. A-line skirt? Next. Grecian style dress? Definitely not. The nice pant suit she had worn to her job interview? Think again. Her hand paused over a little black dress she had made a few weeks ago. Other than the ring of lace around the bottom pleats and the cap sleeves made entirely of bunched tulle, it was a rather plain dress. But it was cute; it was simple. And most of all, it wouldn’t look totally out of place. It would have to do.  
  
Marinette tugged the dress on after selecting undergarments, choosing to forgo any sort of stockings. After a quick perusal of her shoes, she selected a pair of shiny black heels with a bright red bow on the front. The red would be her pop of color, and she’d accent it with the small ruby drop necklace her grandmother had given her last time she’d visited. Marinette stared at herself in the mirror, turning left and right repeatedly, trying to judge how she looked from every angle. She had never worn this dress before, and she wanted to be absolutely sure it looked amazing. Smoothing her hair back for the fifth time, Marinette continued to eye her outfit critically.   
  
Maybe if she paired the lacy shrug she had finished the other night it would go better. . . Marinette let out a defeated sigh before slumping down onto the plush ottoman she kept close to her stand up mirror and closet. What was she even doing worrying about her appearance this much? It wasn’t even like Luka was going to have any time to interact with her tonight. He’d be too busy cosying up to all the studio executives so he could improve his band’s chances. And why shouldn't he? It was the perfect opportunity, and they clearly deserved it.  
  
With one last once over, Marinette grabbed her purse and headed downstairs to call a taxi.  
  


* * *

  
Something about coming to the expensive side of Paris just _screamed_ money. So much so that taxi drivers liked to think they could charge an arm and a leg for what turned out to only be a ten minute car ride.  
  
Marinette stared up at the softly-glowing restaurant sign. She rarely even ventured into this part of town, usually only for the occasional fashion inspiration. It was so far out of her price range, it was absurd. She wasn’t about to turn down a free meal in a Michelin star restaurant from some bigwigs who could certainly afford it, though. Readjusting her clothing and hair one last time after the short car ride, she followed the string of couples entering, and waited her turn to speak to the maître d' standing just inside the entrance.   
  
“Uh, I’m here for the _Record Star Studio_ dinner?”  
  
The maître d' eyed her up and down, clearly not impressed with what he was seeing, before asking her name. Marinette wasn’t too worried, she doubted they would ever see each other again after tonight. The man turned to run his finger down the listing on the small podium just to the side of him. “This way please.” He spun around and started making his way through the half-full dining room. Marinette rushed to catch up. The maître d' led Marinette to one of the side rooms that was closed off behind frosted glass. He knocked softly on the glass before pulling the door open and stepping aside.  
  
Marinette nodded in thanks at her, ignoring the displeased huff she received in return, and walked into the room. She took a quick look over the room and its occupants as the maître d' closed the door behind her with a soft _click_ . The entire room was just as fancy as the entrance and public dining room of the restaurant. The walls were painted a soft grey with pretty watercolor pictures from unknown artists breaking up the long expanses. The lighting was soft, casting the room in an intimate glow. The only thing in the room was a large circular table ringed by chairs that looked more like they belonged in a library than a restaurant.   
  
Marinette turned her attention to the occupants. The fat, balding man she had seen the day before talking to Luka after the audition was speaking quietly to his coworkers gathered around one side of the table. The band was also already seated. Alix was once again tapping out a beat on the wood with her fingers, while Marc and Juleka talked with their significant others that had accompanied them. Luka, however, was smiling at her, looking delighted to see her arrival, and running his gaze appreciatively over her outfit. The only seats left were next to him, just two. Having no choice--not that she really had a problem with it--Marinette sat into the seat next to him, leaving the one on her left empty between her and the studio representatives.  
  
“Hey!” she whispered to him as soon as she slipped into the seat. “Have they told you guys what this is all about yet?” As far as she could see, there were no other bands here, and there wasn’t anywhere for them to sit even if they did show up anymore. The only open chair was next to Marinette, which she assumed would remain empty if not for the place setting in front of it. More than likely, another studio worker was on their way.  
  
Luka gave what she was beginning to think was his trademark smile. He shifted until he was fully facing her, turning his back on the rest of the band and focusing solely on her for the moment. “They haven’t told us anything yet. We’re waiting for someone else still apparently.” He gestured to the spot beside her with a shrug.  
  
The balding man from yesterday finally looked up from his phone to address them all. “Alright everyone, our last guest is on his way, so why don’t we all get settled and we’ll tell you what this is all about.” He waited for the rest of his coworkers to sit, though most of them didn’t even bother paying attention to what he was going to say, more than likely already in the know. “Now for those of you who don’t know me, I am M Damocles. I am the head recruiter for _Record Star Studios_ . I wanted to congratulate you guys: we’ve decided to go ahead with _Kitty Section!_ You will be the main opening act for a five show, anniversary tour around France with -”  
  
As if on queue, the door behind them opened, and M Damocles stopped talking, his face breaking out into a smile as he addressed whoever had opened the door. “Ah! The man of the hour has finally arrived!” Marinette twisted in her seat to see who it was. Blond hair, green eyes, perfect nose. She saw red.  
  


* * *

  
Luka’s entire body was still buzzing with excitement over the announcement. _Kitty Section_ was going on _tour_ . Sure, it wasn’t their own tour, but opening for someone -- someone big enough to have an anniversary tour -- was a great first step. They’d have their own record deal and their own tour in no time, he just knew it. He turned to the door as M Damocles welcomed the newcomer, excited to meet the person they would be spending the next couple of months with, already planning all the questions he could ask them. Juleka would tell him it was just easier to ask their dad, but Luka knew as soon as he broached that subject with him, any chance of making it on merit alone was gone.  
  
The blue-haired musician tilted his head, observing the man who had just entered. He looked to be about the same age as him, with perfectly styled hair, and wearing designer clothes that easily cost more than his entire wardrobe. He had a happy smile on his face as he greeted the entire room. He looked so familiar, but he couldn’t quite place-- the bar. This was the same man he had seen accost Marinette in the hallway before she had punched him. Strange; his nose looked perfectly fine.  
  
Luka turned to look at Marinette, to ask her if she was okay. But the petite, dark-haired woman was nearly vibrating in suppressed rage as she glared daggers at the man. Her lips curled in a silent snarl. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if she suddenly started breathing fire. A little startled, he turned back to facing her, turning his back on the man who was now quietly talking with the executives. “Marinette, are you okay?” Luka asked her in concern.  
  
The woman in question finally tore her eyes away from the blond, a little of the fury leaving their depths when her eyes fell on Luka’s concerned look. She seemed to struggle for a moment before leaning into his space so they wouldn’t be overheard. She smelled like vanilla, cotton, and an underlying scent that was almost metallic in nature.   
  
“He. . . You saw what happened at the bar.” Luka nodded, silently urging her to continue. He had seen her punch the blond man and storm up to him in a huff, but she hadn’t shared what exactly had transpired, insisting that she wanted to get back to their night out. “First it was pretty innocent flirting; sleezy, but innocent. Whatever,” she continued, waving her hand in dismissal. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. But then he got all in my space -” Marinette was working herself into another fury, her cheeks beginning to color again. “- and then he started _propositioning_ me, said he was the _famous_ Adrien Agreste,” so that’s who he was, “and had I ever wanted to sleep with a celebrity.” Her eyes cut to the man in question again with disdain. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I made it crystal clear.”  
  
Luka frowned, suddenly not all too keen on being here anymore and going on tour, no matter how much it would help the band. “Do you want to get out of here?” At her hesitant nod he held out his hand to her. He got to enjoy the feel of her slipping her own small hand into his own for just a few seconds before the door slammed open once again with far more force then was necessary. They both turned to see what the interruption could be this time.  
  
If he hadn’t been sure he was stone-cold sober, Luka would have thought he was seeing double. Standing in the doorway with a scowl plastered across his face and a smattering of yellow and purple bruises under his eyes, was a carbon copy of the man claiming to be Adrien Agreste. Same perfectly styled hair, same green eyes, same designer clothes. Only the nose that had clearly been broken and readjusted set them apart.  
  
Adrien walked up to his doppleganger and slapped him on the back in welcome, unaware or uncaring of the seething mood the newcomer was in. “Ah, Félix! I’m glad you could make it last minute!” The cheerful blond took a quick look around the room before leaning out the door to ask the maître d' for an extra chair. While they waited Adrien returned to making his way around the table, pausing to introduce himself and shake everyone’s hands. Luka watched with a frown as Marinette extracted her hand from his to shake Adrien’s with a confused frown of her own. She was the last one he greeted, and after doing so, Adrien slipped into the seat next to her. Marinette watched him the whole way.  
  
She was staring at him, which he was probably used to, and not in that typical stalker fangirl way. Marinette was staring at him obviously confused. And Luka didn’t blame her. There were two Adrien Agrestes. One she maybe hadn’t met, and one she had _definitely_ met. She was refusing to look at him, even if he personally would want to gloat over the bruises maring his picture perfect face.   
  
“So. . . Félix, was it?” she finally asked, addressing her question to Adrien.  
  
Adrien was all easy smiles, seeming to radiate literal sunshine from his being. “He’s my cousin. We grew up together.” Félix appeared in his field of view, dragging a chair and wedging it into the small space between Adrien and the executive sitting next to him. The blond threw himself bodily down into the chair, arms crossed and looking angrier by the minute. Félix’s eyes cut over to their section of the table, skipping over Marinette before flying back in startled recognition.  
  
“You!” He nearly spat out, his anger seeming to multiply tenfold, as if she was the one at fault in the whole scenario. Luka felt like breaking his nose again on her behalf. Marinette was tensing up, gearing up for another fight. He could see the stiff line of her shoulders. Adrien however intervened, seemingly oblivious to the mood rising between the two.  
  
“You know each other! That’s great!” Adrien wrapped an arm around Félix’s shoulders, dragging his cousin close in a half hug. The other blond looked disgruntled, but the anger on his face faded away. His eyes were still glittering hatred however as he continued to stare at Marinette, and Luka was fairly certain he was just hiding his anger behind a blank mask to appease his more famous cousin. At least, Luka had never _heard_ of Félix before.  
  
Marinette slumped back in her seat. Luka debated still leaving. Clearly Adrien wasn’t the one she had had an altercation with, but Félix was still there, and he didn’t want to leave her in the position to deal with him at all. At least Adrien was acting as a barrier between them.   
  
He watched Marinette order a glass of wine when the waitress finally started coming around. She looked like she needed it, but he also hoped she didn’t drink as much as she had drank last night. He hadn’t brought the bike along tonight, not that she could ride it in those shoes, and while he didn’t hate it, he also didn’t relish the thought of carrying a drunk Marinette _all_ the way home. The waitress returned with their drinks, and he took a sip of his water while watching her down nearly half her glass right away.   
  
Carrying her home it was then.  
  
Marinette was clearly uncomfortable, and Luka wished she had taken him up on his offer to run away. Something he was still willing to do even if the person who had assaulted her was not the same person as who they would be working with.   
  
That was how he spent most of his evening. Worrying over Marinette as she consumed glass after glass of wine. She’d turn to him occasionally to talk, or smile, but for the most part she stayed focused on Adrien. Or more likely, glaring daggers at Félix who did his utmost to ignore her. Luka ate his own dinner slowly, not even able to enjoy the meal that probably cost more than his weekly paycheck. He had been hoping to spend most of the time getting to know Marinette better, but she seemed intent on her other neighbors.  
  
Eventually the food was cleared away and the executives turned to the band to explain that they would officially be playing as the only opening act on Adrien’s tour. Just five shows over five weeks. They would be paid, of course, and who knew, maybe the opportunity would blossom into something more. Adrien at least seemed eager to work with him, even if Luka seriously doubted they would be seeing much of each other. Finally, M Damocles called an end to the evening.  
  
Luka stood with everyone else, offering Marinette his arm to help her stand. Despite how the night had gone, he was pleased when she took it with a smile. As the band filed out, M Damocles stopped him only long enough to tell him that they would be emailing more information in the coming days before turning his attention back to Adrien. Luka and Marinette made their way out of the restaurant, her arm still a heavy weight draped over his own, to find the rest of their friends had already disappeared to head home.  
  
Once outside they only made it a few steps towards her residence before she stumbled a step. Luka slipped his arm around her waist, doing his best to steady her with a mumbled curse. Marinette bent over to remove her shoes, sighing in pleasure before they continued on. It only took a few more steps before he noticed she had started walking funny and poorly trying to hide the grimaces with each step. Parisian sidewalks were generally clean, but walking over them barefoot was never pleasant.  
  
Luka slowly extracted his arm from around her waist, making sure she’d be able to stand on her own for a few moments before he was kneeling next to her and indicating she should climb on his back. Marinette seemed startled to realize that there was even someone with her. “Luka? You. . . You don’t have to walk me home.”  
  
He smiled at her, indicating his back once more. “I want to make sure you get home safely, Marinette. I promise I can carry you just fine.” Even if he didn’t spend any amount of time at the gym he wouldn’t have doubted that; Marinette was such a petite girl. Carrying her on his back would be easier than trying to carry her the entire walk back bridal style. Luka felt his cheeks heat, glad for the low light, as he tried to wrestle his mind away from that train of thought.  
  
Marinette stared at him for a moment before wrapping her arms around his neck, nearly smacking him in the face with her shoes in the process. “Hold on tight.” At her tentative nod, Luka stood, reaching his arms back to hook under her when she hopped up to wrap her legs securely around his waist. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that his hands were gripping at the soft skin of her upper thighs, and that he could feel the lacy trim of whatever she was wearing under her dress.  
  
After readjusting so they were both comfortable, Luka set off down the sidewalk towards the bakery. He could feel Marinette breathing softly against his neck where she had buried her face. Unwilling to break the quiet, Luka stayed silent, worried about holding on to Marinette if she fell asleep. Thankfully that didn’t seem to be something he had to worry about when she started mumbling nonsense to herself. He grit his teeth, his muscles tensing. She had settled herself in the dip of his shoulder, face turned towards his neck. With each exhaled word he could feel her soft lips brushing against the suddenly hypersensitive skin of his neck. It was pure torture.  
  
When her cool fingers suddenly started brushing against his exposed collarbone, Luka almost yelped and dropped her, causing Marinette to giggle next to his ear. “Sorry, Luka.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. Especially when she just continued doing it, being so bold to even slip her fingers under the fabric of his shirt to follow the ridge of the bone.  
  
“Please be careful, Marinette. I don’t want you to fall,” he tried desperately, tightening his grip on her even as he said it. His fingers gripped tighter on the pliable flesh of her thighs and Marinette squirmed against him in response, letting out a featherly little moan in his ear. Fuck, he was so dead. Luka was going to need a _very_ cold shower when he got back to his apartment. Were he a weaker man he could have enjoyed spreading his fingers out on her skin, trying to elicit more of those little sighs she was releasing with her head buried back into his neck. But he wouldn’t take advantage of her while she was drunk.  
  
Too soon, he could see the bakery in the distance, which meant the end of Marinette’s little teasing against his skin. Stopping outside the building, Luka slowly lowered himself to the ground until he was kneeling, waiting as Marinette took her sweet time to slide down his body, sighing in pleasure the whole way. Once she was off, Luke straightened himself, turning to help her back up and steady her on her feet. He didn’t let go of her arms even when she seemed to stop wobbling.  
  
Marinette turned her face up to him, all sleepy smiles and looking utterly content despite standing outside in the cold at one in the morning. “Thank you so much for escorting me home, Luka.” Escorting, right. She rocked up on her tiptoes, tilting her face up. In a panic, Luka did the only thing he could think of to prevent himself from kissing her when she was still so drunk: He kissed her forehead. He kept his lips there longer than was strictly necessary, but he enjoyed the feel of her skin under his lips.  
  
She fell back on her heels, blinking up at him in hurt confusion, and Luka instantly felt bad. As much as he wanted to be kissing Marinette right now, he didn’t feel right having their first one be while she was wasted and might not remember or even really consent. “You should get to bed, it’s late,” he whispered, hoping he didn’t sound like he was utterly rejecting her.   
  
Marinette pulled her arms out of his, a crestfallen look on her face that tugged on his heartstrings. She started down at her bare feet for a moment, and Luka could only pray that she wasn’t crying. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would do if she was. A few seconds later she finally looked at him, a smile plastered across her face that he was pretty sure was fake, judging by the stray tears he could see glimmering in the corners of her eyes. “You’re right! Thanks again, Luka! I really appreciate it. . . Again.”  
  
She turned to go, and Luka felt his heart skip a beat in panic before he leaned forward and snagged her hand in his own. “Hey, uh. . .” Suddenly feeling embarrassed himself, Luka ruffled his hair in a nervous habit. “Do you want to maybe exchange numbers? It would be nice to have someone to talk to back home when we leave.” He had no idea if they would be able to see each other again before the band left with Adrien. Luka sure hoped so.  
  
A hopeful smile crept its way onto Marinette’s face and she turned back around, digging in her purse to pull out her cell phone. He dug out his own, and they swapped them to program their numbers in. When he looked up, she was holding out a small box with the bakery's logo on it.   
  
“I made you some macarons, in thanks for making sure I got home safe last night. And tonight too, I guess.”  
  
He took them with a quiet thanks, stowing the small box in his pocket to be eaten later. With another murmured goodbye, this one sounding much more cheerful, Marinette slipped inside the dark bakery. Luka watched her go with a loopy smile on his face before turning and making his way back to his apartment, a little spring in his step.  
  


* * *

  
The first time Luka called, Marinette stared at her phone sitting innocently on her bedside table for the full minute it took to click over to voicemail. They hadn’t spoken since he had carried her drunk ass back to the bakery a week ago. Unless you counted the text message he had sent her a few days after the dinner with _Kitty Section’s_ schedule. She hadn’t answered beyond some generic encouragement, still too embarrassed.  
  
She had woken up after the studio dinner hungover and painfully aware of what had happened the night before. Besides once again blatantly feeling Luka up, she had gone so far as to try and kiss him! It didn’t matter that Luka had seemed to enjoy the attention at first, and that she had secretly been hoping the entire way home that his hands would inch just a _little_ further up her thighs. He had made his feelings crystal clear at the end of the night when he had refused her more direct advances. And that hurt. She had thought they might be building to something, if not long-term, at least short and pleasurable.  
  
She was startled out of her thoughts when her phone beeped loudly, alerting her to the fact that she had a voicemail. Scrambling away from her sewing station, Marinette grappled with her phone for a few moments. She pulled up the voicemail and hesitantly held her phone up to her ear.  
  
 _“Sorry I missed you, Marinette. We just got done with our first opening show, man what an experience!”  
  
_ Marinette listened to him talk all about the experience, and what it was like touring on a _real_ tour bus. How Adrien was actually a pretty decent person the few times they had interacted. He told her all the things he had clearly wanted to tell her over the phone, and for a moment she felt bad for giving in to her nerves and not answering the call. A small smile spread over her face as he rambled on however. There was a long pause while she listened to him shuffle with something on his end before his voice came through the speaker again.  
  
 _“I miss you. I’ll call you again later.”  
  
_ The line clicked dead again, the robotic voice of her phone listing all the options for the voicemail while she stared down at it in confused wonder. He _missed_ her? She wasn’t sure they knew each other all that well, but he had sounded very genuine. The day of the audition they had spent plenty of time together, especially at the bar later when they had been practically attached at the hip for hours. And there had been the dinner where she had. . . Practically ignored him.  
  
Feeling suddenly ashamed, Marinette pulled up her most recent message with him and looked over the schedule he had sent her. Vowing to be available the next time he called, she quickly typed out a reply saying sorry for missing the call, how excited she was for him, and that they’d talk later. She was too scared to say that she missed him, too.  
  


* * *

  
The next few times he called, Marinette was reading. She took to sitting in bed and reading while he was supposed to be playing, looking through sewing journals at new techniques and advances in fabrics and dyes, phone fully charged and within easy reach. Despite being ready, the special ringtone she had set for Luka blaring through her otherwise quiet room always startled her into dropping whatever she was doing.  
  
They always started off by talking about their days. She helped out in the bakery, she dealt with the most recent bridezilla of Paris at work. She talked about how excited she was about the new sewing project she was working on. She kept quiet on the few pieces she had begun toying around with for him. He told her about how much he was enjoying touring. Enjoying the small taste of that rockstar lifestyle. He wasn’t super interested in the partying that took place, or the crazy groupies -- her heart clenched at the thought -- but just the chance to play on a big stage and move people with his music had always been his dream. The crowd at their next few shows had been much more receptive, finally starting to pick up on some of their songs, and the executives seemed impressed as a result. But he was missing Paris, missing Sass. Missing her went unsaid.  
  
Between phone calls, they exchanged text messages: Normal chit-chat about their days and small trivia that didn’t come up during their weekly calls. She learned that his favorite color was a type of teal blue, the same color that he tried to emulate in his hair. She learned that he had been playing guitar since before he could walk. Apparently so had Juleka; both their parents were big into music. He shared far more information about his childhood with her than his sister ever had. He talked about his mom, how her passing had crushed both him and Juleka a few years ago and almost ended the band before it even started. But in all that time, he only ever said that his father was in and out of their lives, even now.  
  


* * *

  
The night of the final show, Luka slipped away from his band members milling around in their dressing room after their set to make his way back to the small tour bus they were all sharing. While this tour had been an amazing learning experience, the chance of a lifetime, he would be lying if he didn’t say he was looking forward to returning home in a few days. He missed his own bed and apartment. He missed Sass, who was staying with his best friend, Henri. He missed Marinette, as embarrassing as it was to admit when they had only known each other for such a short time. But these past few weeks exchanging daily text messages and phone calls with her made him really feel like he was getting to know her.  
  
Like how her favorite color was the same pink painted on her walls. How she dreamed of opening her own little fashion boutique in downtown Paris and selling high quality but affordable one-of-a-kind clothing. She was an only child and clearly loved by both her parents. She didn’t have nearly the skill in baking as either of them, but she still enjoyed the calming motions of it. She hadn’t grown up with any pets, and she was jealous that he had one at all. And she sort of wanted to learn guitar now thanks to him, even if she knew she didn’t have the time. Luka promised to teach her when he could, secretly hoping they could turn the whole experience into a real date with just the two of them.  
  
Stowing his gear away, Luka quickly changed into something more comfortable to sleep in before settling into one of the few plush chairs scattered around the bus and pulling up his list of contacts. He hesitated a moment before making the split second decision to video call her. He waited as the phone rang, worried that she wasn’t going to pick up. Eventually she did, and he frowned to see her already curled up in bed. “Hey, Marinette.” She smiled sleepily at him as soon as he started talking. “Sorry, did I wake you? Go back to sleep, we’ll talk later okay?”  
  
The dark-haired woman quickly shook her head, trying and failing to hide her yawn behind her pink and white comforter. She insisted on staying on the call, she was just tired after her day. Luka frowned, not sure he really believed her. But he had been missing Marinette, and only really got to talk to her on the phone after the band’s set, so he was willing to be selfish and talk rather than insist that she go to bed. She told him about how her dad was sick and she had woken up super early to help her mom out in the bakery all day before her normal job. Which hadn’t been a cake walk either apparently, with difficult bride after difficult bride making visits. She held up and wiggled her fingers, wrapped in a multitude of bandages. She was disappointed that her own projects would be put on hold while she healed.  
  
Expressing sympathy for her, the musician went on to tell her about how tonight the crowd had actually started singing along with some of their songs, the first time on the entire tour. The fact alone had made his entire year, giving him a heady feeling just thinking about it. M Damocles had slapped him on the back and promised good things to come after Adrien had finally taken the stage.  
  
“That’s great, Luka! I’m so happy for you!” She exclaimed, her eyes slipping closed against the light of her phone.  
  
Luka was halfway through talking about a new song he was working on when he glanced back at the screen and saw that the phone had tilted when her hand relaxed. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing quietly, fast asleep. With a smile, he dragged himself out of the chair with a groan, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake the woman. His entire body was sore after they had gone all out tonight. They had wanted to leave the best-lasting impression they could on the last night.  
  
He hauled himself up into the top bunk he had been using during this entire tour and wrapped himself up in the blankets, knowing how cold the bus could get at night while they traveled. Turning so his back was to the hallway, Luka propped his phone up in the little nook inside his bunk, whispered a quiet goodnight to Marinette, and fell asleep to her even breathing.


	3. Feeling Lucky

_Feeling Lucky_

_There's a chance, one of us will give in soon  
_ _I could ask, but what's an answer gonna prove?  
_ _I try to get mad, but the fever drops  
_ _My heart can't break 'cause the beating stops  
_ _Yeah, suck that lucky feeling right outta me._

  
A week after the band returned from touring, Luka received another email from the recording studio. It had been a chore to return to work, to go back to his life after the amazing experience that had been touring. He didn’t have much choice though but to continue with his normal life when the studio had told them they’d be in touch and sent them on their way. Since he’d been back, he hadn’t done anything but work. To even go on tour to begin with, he had traded away every shift he could, and called in every favor. Now he was making up for his coworkers’ generosity tenfold.  
  
So when _Record Star Studios_ finally called him on his first day off since returning, Luka was ecstatic. None of the band had gotten their hopes up, they were mostly content to return to their normal lives, even if he could see the disappointment that simmered just under the surface. But not him. Luka had refused to give up hope, waiting with bated breath each day. And it finally seemed to be paying off.  
  
Standing outside the building they had auditioned in, Luka tried to get his nerves and excitement in check. Tried to temper his expectations. Whatever they offered, he knew the band would take it in a heartbeat, but it wouldn’t be wise to get a picture in his head that might not line up with reality. One more steadying breath, and the blue-haired musician made his way into the building. He was a little surprised to find a blonde woman reading at a desk that hadn’t been there when he had come in last time.  
  
“What can I do for you?” She didn’t even look up from the magazine, sounding for all the world like she would rather be doing literally anything else.  
  
“Uh, my name's Luka Couffaine. I’m here to see M Damocles.”  
  
Without a word, the secretary pointed him down the hallway. The opposite one he had taken when he’d been here to audition. With a murmured thanks that she didn’t bother acknowledging, Luka set off down into the building. As he went, he peered curiously into each of the rooms he passed, trying to see through the frosted glass on the doors. The last door at the very end of the hallway had _Pallas Damocles_ chipped into the effect on the door.  
  
Luka knocked on the glass, trying to project the confidence he wished he was feeling. He listened to the sound of whoever was inside hastily shoving papers around and slamming drawers shut before they started shuffling over to the door. Luka waited patiently until M Damocles inched the door open just far enough to peek through.  
  
“What do you want!” Once the man got a good look at who was waiting on the other side of the door, he pulled it the rest of the way open, frantically gesturing Luka inside. Luka squeezed his way past him and into the office, watching in confusion as Damocles gave the hallway a once over before closing and locking the door, muttering about uppity secretaries the whole time.  
  
Damocles turned back around, all smiles, and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Luka hesitated a moment before shoving the pile of folders -- some of the many around the office -- to the back before perching on the edge of the chair. He waited quietly while Damocles began shuffling through the papers on his desk before extracting a folder and handing it over to Luka.   
  
“Take a look!”  
  
Luka took it and flipped it open, eyes scanning down the typed words before he stilled, gaze snapping back to the top to re-read it. “T-this is?”  
  
Damocles nodded enthusiastically, “That’s right, the studio would like to offer your band a contract. All the information you need is inside the folder.” He gestured to the manila folder in Luka’s shaking hands. “All of you will have to sign, so take it home and look it over, and return it once you’re done.” Damocles leaned back in his chair for a moment, a troubled look on his face. “There is just. . . One condition though.”  
  
Luka’s eyes snapped up to stare at the executive, an unsettled feeling curling in his gut. Conditions were never a good thing.  
  
“The name has to change.”  
  
The feeling in Luka’s stomach unraveled. That wasn’t even a problem for him personally, and he really doubted any of the others besides maybe Juleka would care. _Kitty Section_ had been Rose’s choice, and she was no longer even a part of the band.  
  
Luka nodded to indicate his agreeability with the condition before his focus fell back to the contract. He flipped to the next page, eyes widening at the advanced compensation they would each be receiving. Continuing on, his attention zeroed in on the section about wardrobe and how the studio would provide them. It said that seamstresses on staff would prepare all the clothing for their shoots, tours, and events as a measure to avoid paying royalties to clothing companies.   
  
“I also have a condition, M Damocles.” Luka had to tread carefully. True, the studio wanted to sign _Kitty Section_ , but how much leverage they would have in negotiations would depend largely on just how big of a future the studio saw for them. “This part about wardrobe, here?” He held up the paper, pointing to the relevant section. “I know who I want to dress us. The woman who dressed us for the audition.”  
  
Damocles tapped his pen on the desk in an uneven rhythm, not looking happy about having negotiations of any kind. “Look, we have seamstresses on staff already, surely one of them would be-”  
  
“Pay her out of my starting cut.”  
  
Everyone’s advance had been laid out, it was more than Luka made even in a year of work. He could easily pay Marinette a good wage and still have enough to take home and not even notice a change in his finances. Only this time he’d be making music, _his dream_ . He wanted to try and help Marinette achieve hers. And she was never going to get Gabriel’s attention working at some wedding boutique.  
  
Damocles was quiet for a few minutes, continuing to tap away at his wooden desk. Finally, the man sighed and held out his hand to shake, which Luka did with zero hesitation. “Fine. She’ll start the first year on _your_ payroll. If at the end of the tour I like her work, we can revisit signing her under the label.” He didn’t look impressed though.  
  
Luka thanked him before agreeing to drop off the contract with the updated name as soon as possible. He left the building, barely paying attention to his surroundings as he continued reading through the information, thinking about what he had to do now. Fishing out his phone, Luka dialed his sister quickly.  
  
“Hey, can you guys all meet me at the bar? It’s important.”  
  


* * *

  
 _Kitty Section_ was gathered around a small table at the same bar they had come to after the audition to celebrate. All sets of eyes were on Luka as he dug in his bag before dropping the plain manila folder on the table in front of them all. He hadn’t told him why he wanted to see them all, just that it was important. Luka wanted a genuine reaction to the news. The rest of the band leaned forward when Marc flipped the folder open, each jostling each other to get a look at what was inside.  
  
“Holy fuck, are you serious!” Alix screamed after the first few sentences, being quickly shushed by the rest of the table.  
  
Marc looked ready to faint, his face going slack with each subsequent line he absorbed. Juleka just looked contemplative. For a split second, Luka was worried. Would his sister decline so she could finish out her schooling? There were only a few more months left before she graduated, but doing both school work and recording an album would be taxing. He felt ashamed for not even thinking of her in his joy over the news.  
  
“This seems too good to be true.” The purple haired bassist finally said, pushing the papers back towards her brother.  
  
Luka snatched the contract back up, and began flipping through the different pages and pointing out all the interesting bits to them. First was the pay -  
  
“Holy shit, that’s a lot of money.” Marc whispered to no one in particular.  
  
They all expressed excitement at recording an album, even if none of them besides Luka and Juleka had any idea what that entailed. Just the fact that they were going to be able to do it was exciting enough. The tour also brought another round of excitement. Everyone had enjoyed being an opening act for Adrien Agreste, for the experience if nothing else.  
  
“Are we going to have to choose our own opening band too?” Alix asked in interest.   
  
“Okay but if we do, can we actually be there to pick ourselves?” Marc brought up a good point. While the band would _never_ disparage the opportunity they had been given, there was no question that their style of music didn’t really line up with what Adrien had been doing. All of them wanted to avoid that situation.   
  
“We’ll have to let a lawyer look it over first,” Luka said, slipping the contract back into his bag so he didn’t lose it. “I guess we can ask dad’s,” he continued with a sigh. He wasn’t looking forward to bringing this new development to him, but at least now they could say they had made it on their own merit and not any lingering fame of his.  
  
“You can do that _alone_ .” Juleka said with more venom then she showed most things in her life.   
  
Luka smiled indulgently at his sister. “That’s fine, you can do something for me while I do.” At her questioning look, he continued, “I’ll tell you about it when we leave.”  
  
Marc finally shook himself out of his stupor, leaving forward, his body nearly vibrating with excitement. “This is awesome! Did you see all those zeroes? I can quit my job!” They all could, but Luka also seriously doubted Marc would stop helping Nathaniel out with his own art business though. “I can’t believe they want to sign _Kitty Sec_ -”  
  
“That’s another thing,” Luka interrupted, looking at them each in turn. “They want us to rename the band.” Predictably, Juleka was the only one who looked upset at this fact, but thankfully she kept it to herself.  
  
As a band they deliberated amongst themselves for over a half hour about a new name, but were unable to come up with anything. Alix dropped out of the conversation entirely after only five minutes, stating that she didn’t care what the band was called, she was just there to play drums. It took a little longer for Juleka to bow out as well until it was just Luka and Marc bouncing ideas back and forth. Both men fell silent before Luka finally had a stroke of inspiration.  
  
“How about _La Mar en Été_ ?” He didn’t like the look Juleka instantly shot him. He was beyond grateful when she kept her mouth shut, for now at least. He had no doubts that she would be all over him as soon as she felt like giving him the third degree. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice their stare off, or seemed to make the connection with the name.  
  
Marc, being the only one who even cared anymore, agreed with the name change. Though Luka was pretty sure that was because they had been deliberating for awhile now and everyone just wanted to move on with their day. One by one they stood, saying their goodbyes and leaving until it was only Juleka and himself standing outside the bar.  
  
Luka dug out the crumpled receipt from the bar, hesitated, and then quickly wrote down a number before he could second guess it. He handed it over to Juleka without a word, who just raised her eyebrows behind the curtain of her hair at the number written there. Easily half of what his starting advance would have been. But sometimes in life you had to take chances.   
  
“Okay, so I got them to agree to hire Marinette as our stylist.” He wasn’t about to tell her, or anyone, that the money was coming directly out of his pocket and not the studios. Hopefully when all was said and one, it wouldn’t matter and she’d be paid on her own merit from them.   
  
He explained the details of what Juleka would be doing, “I need you to take the offer to Marinette while I visit dad. That,” he pointed to the paper he had just handed her, “is her yearly pay.” Luka grasped at his sister’s shoulders, trying to convey just how important this was to him without coming right out and saying it. “Please make sure she agrees. I’ll have dad’s lawyer draw up a contract.” He gave Juleka one final shake for emphasis before letting go.  
  
“They're being awfully generous with a starting seamstress,” Juleka mumbled. Luka’s lips flattened into a thin line, unwilling to explain just what was going on. His sister didn’t say anything else after observing him for a minute. “I’ll text you when I’m done.” She waved, and then turned to head towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and sent out a silent prayer that now Marinette would just accept.  
  


* * *

  
Luka started up at the ostentatious mansion his father called home. He always hated coming here, especially when all it did was remind him that Juleka and he had grown up on a cramped boat because their father was never around. It didn’t matter that it was what their mother had wanted. Or that it had been an adventure as kids until they got older and the space got smaller. They had been lucky to see their dad once a year. Usually around Christamas when he tried to bribe them with more gifts than would even fit on the boat to make up for his lack of parenting. They didn’t even share a last name, their parents had never married. The only thing they had in common was their love of music and colored hair, though Luka and Juleka both tended to be much more low key than either of their parents.  
  
With a sigh, knowing he was going to hate this whole experience but needing to get it over with, Luka pressed the buzzer attached to the closed gate. After a moment, static crackled from one of the speakers before a female voice came over the intercom.  
  
“Jagged Stone’s residence, how can I help you?”  
  
Luka turned to the left and waved to the little camera that was slowly turning its way towards him to take a peek. “Hey Penny, I’m here to see my dad about something.” The gate opened, and he began making his way up the long drive. The door opened before he even finished climbing the steps to reveal Penny, Jagged’s longtime assistant and girlfriend.  
  
“Oh Luka! It’s so good to see you again!” Penny swept him up into a hug, which he gladly returned. Luka had always liked Penny, even if Jagged had broken off things with his mom, whatever it was they had had, shortly before she died. He didn’t hold it against Penny though Jagged could be quite the handful, and she could handle him far better than Anarka ever could.  
  
“Hey, Penny. It’s good to see you too. Do you know if dad’s around? And hopefully M Dubois as well?” M Dubois was the family’s lawyer. Luka had only met him a couple of times in the years he had been representing his dad.  
  
Penny started leading him through the winding mansion to what he knew was his dad’s office, a hilarious oxymoron as Luka was sure Jagged had never done paperwork a day in his life. “You’re in luck,” she told him. “M Dubois is actually here going over some licensing deals with your dad right now.” They came to the double doors and Penny knocked on them. The voices inside died down, and she pulled it open to usher him inside, closing it behind him without coming in herself.  
  
M Dubois smiled at him in greeting, obviously recognizing him, but otherwise saying nothing. Jagged however, was out of his chair in seconds, rushing over to descend on his son. “Oh Luka! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?!” The rock star cried. Luka tensed to avoid being lifted and twirled around as Jagged was wont to do, but he was far too lanky these days to pick up his gym-going son.  
  
“I’m actually here to see M Dubois,” Luka said, nodding to the lawyer. Jagged frowned at him, looking hurt that Luka hadn’t come to actually see him. Luka offered him a strained smile before extracting himself from his dad’s hold. He walked to M Dubois side and settled in the other chair facing the desk before pulling out the manila folder holding the contract. It was now or never.  
  
“ _Kitty Section_ got offered a contract-” Instantly Jagged was screeching in joy, so loud that Penny barged into the office to see what the commotion was. “- and I was hoping you could take a look over it for me.”   
  
Both Luka and M Dubois ignored Jagged practically weeping on Penny’s shoulder, blubbering something about how his little babies had finally made it. M Dubois took the contract and gave the first page a cursory glance. “Sure, Luka. Who offered you the contract?”  
  
“ _Record Star Studio_ .” This proclamation had Jagged gasping in outrage, he started lamenting to Penny that they hadn’t even signed with _his_ label. Luka felt his cheek twitch in annoyance. There was a reason he rarely came over; his dad’s over the top attitude quickly grated on every last nerve he had. Juleka was damn lucky he needed her for something else. “There’s another thing, I need you to draw up a contract for the band’s stylist.”  
  
M Dubois looked up at Luka in confusion, “Doesn’t the studio have stylists on payroll you can use?”  
  
“They do but. . . Marinette dressed us for the audition, I don’t think we would have won without her skills. She’s pretty amazing and we’d just like to pay her back.” Luka kept saying we, when really he meant _I_ . He flushed in embarrassment, realizing he was probably going to have to tell M Dubois, and thus his father, mostly what was going on. “I’ll be paying her out of my cut for the first year.”  
  
The lawyer raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing, turning to begin combing through the contract. Jagged finally abandoned Penny to drape himself back over his son, to Luka’s great annoyance. “What’s this I hear about a girl? Is my baby boy finally growing up?” As if Luka had never had a girlfriend or sexual partner in his life.  
  
“I haven’t been your baby boy in a long time,” Luka said with disgust, trying to shove Jagged off him and back into Penny’s arms.  
  
Luka ignored his dad’s heartbroken sobs, crocodile tears he was sure, as M Dubois went through the finer points of the band’s contract with him. At the end, the lawyer declared the contract sound, that the record studio wasn’t trying to swindle the band out of anything, and they were free to sign it. Penny finally dragged Jagged out of the office to get some water while M Dubois started drafting up a simple contract for Marinette.  
  
Luka leaned back in his chair, relaxing and scrolling through social media on his phone before stopping at a picture on Juleka’s feed. He started at the names who liked his sister’s picture, focusing on the account named _marinettedesigned_. Tapping the name, he was happy to see it bring up a feed of pictures starring Marinette. Mostly they involved her sewing creations, which she seemed to take great pride in. A few of them involved friends, some he had seen hanging around Juleka before. He stopped at a picture where she was sewing something that looked like the vest he had worn for the audition, the caption read ‘ _ugh why did i agree to this? nathaniel you owe me big time!’_ It had been posted at nearly four in the morning, and Luka felt instantly bad. He hadn’t known she had been forced to do something like that to help them out.  
  
Luka vowed to make it up to her, one way or another. He just hoped the offer Juleka was bringing her would be the start of that. Another hour passed before M Dubois finally declared he had the contract all prepared and notarized. Luka would just have to fill in the salary, sign, and have Marinette sign as well. He took it with a quiet thanks, reading it over as he got up and wandered back through the halls towards the front door.  
  
It was an extremely simple contract. Marinette would make all the clothing for their tour, their music videos, and any parties they would have to attend. She’d also retain all the creative rights over the designs. Luka almost paused to sign it, but stopped when he realized that would probably alert Marinette to just who was paying her. That wasn’t something he wanted her learning now, or ever. He would just have to sign it when he returned both contracts to the studio. The musician sent off a text to Juleka to meet him at his apartment for dinner before leaving, relieved to have not seen Jagged on the way out.  
  


* * *

  
A knocking on the trap door leading into her loft broke Marinette out of the concentrated haze she tended to get in whenever she was sewing. She absently called out permission to answer, assuming it was just one of her parents coming up to bring her lunch. She tended to forget about things like food when she got involved with a new project. When whoever it was didn’t say anything, and didn’t seem to put anything down on one of her tables either, Marinette finally twisted around to get a look. She was surprised to see Juleka settling down into one of the few seats scattered around her bedroom.  
  
“Oh! Juleka! What brings you here?” Marinette hadn’t seen the other woman since the dinner over a month ago. But that wasn’t exactly unheard of these days with everyone busy with their own lives. Alya was the only one she saw with any regularity anymore.  
  
Marinette dropped her sewing supplies on her workstation, standing and moving to curl up on the ottoman closest to where Juleka had chosen to sit. Wordlessly, the purple-haired woman held out a crumpled piece of paper, and confused, Marinette took it. Smoothing it out, she saw that it only had a string of numbers written on it. She flipped it over but found only what looked like a receipt from some bar or restaurant.  
  
“Uh, what’s this?” she asked, not understanding the significance.   
  
Juleka brushed the bangs out of her eyes, seemingly annoyed for a moment when they settled back in place and obstructing half her view again. “So _Kitty Section_ got offered a record contract-”  
  
“Oh my gosh, Juleka! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you guys!” And she was. _Kitty Section_ definitely had the talent. Marinette was pleased to see that talent recognized in the form of employment. “Just remember the little guys when you’re big and famous,” she said with a smirk, reiterating what she had told Luka.  
  
The bassist scoffed, “I doubt that will be a problem. Anyway, that number,” she gestured to the paper still clutched in Marinette’s hand. “Is your pay.” At Marinette’s increasingly confused look, Juleka explained further. “Luka convinced them to let you be our full time stylist. You’d be dressing the band for all the big things. Tours, videos, parties, that kind of stuff. If you want it, that is.”  
  
At first, Marinette felt elated. She could leave the dreadful boutique she worked in behind, where they all took ridiculous advantage of her talent. Sewing clothes for an actual _band_ would give her brand a much needed boost and a much larger platform as well. It was one step closer to being noticed by a real fashion house, and thus gaining her dream job. But just as soon as the happiness rushed through her, was it chased away by the sharp feeling of sadness.  
  
Why was Juleka bringing her this offer? Sure they were friends, but Luka knew where she lived. Luka was the one who had insisted she go to that company dinner. Luka was the one who had apparently even got her hired. And Luka was the one who she had been talking to almost non-stop for the past month and a half through text messages and the occasional phone call. She starkly remembered the spurned kiss a week before he had left on tour. Marinette felt the sting of rejection once again. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was crystal clear now. Whatever he was doing with the flirting, he wasn’t interested in her outside of that.  
  
Marinette turned her attention back to the crumpled paper in her hand. Unfurling her fingers from around it, she absorbed the numbers again, now conscious that this was a salary rather than a random string of numbers. It was more than double what she made at the boutique. The money didn’t really matter to her though. She could have been making less and still been eager to leave that soul-sucking place. That fact that she’d be making so much money was just icing on the cake.   
  
Plastering a smile on her face despite the feeling of rejection still curling in her gut, Marinette turned back to Juleka. “Great, is there a contract or something I have to sign?”  
  
Juleka was concentrating on her phone, tapping away. “Luka said he’d have it for you once he cleared everything with dad’s lawyer.” Marinette raised her eyebrows at that. Juleka had never shared any information about her father before. But apparently he was someone important enough to just _have_ a lawyer.   
  
“Uh, alright. Well let the studio know I’d be happy to sign!” Marinette stood and saw Juleka out of her room, waving goodbye as the other woman left and not understanding the smirk the bassist wore on her way out.  
  


* * *

  
The month that followed the contract signing saw Luka heading back and forth to the studio as they started setting up a dedicated space for the band to record in for the next few months. Occasionally he was accompanied by Marinette as she got her own little space ready, a small room off the side of the mixing room that usually would have just housed extra equipment.   
  
They had both quit their jobs. He from a dive bar that was kind enough to let _Kitty Section_ play music occasionally, and she from a bridal boutique she had claimed was slowly sucking out her soul. Luka was in the studio, busy rearranging some new music and writing new songs, sheets of penciled in notes and lyrics scattered around him, when Marinette found him.  
  
She plopped into the chair beside him, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I got my soul back!” She exclaimed.  
  
Luka looked up in confusion, guitar strings going still in his hands. “Who took it?” he jested back, a coy smile slowly sliding into place as he raised an eyebrow in her direction.  
  
“My job,” she started, “It sucked the soul right out of me. But I told the manager to go to hell and I took it back!” Marinette leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes in contentment for a few moments before turning to look up at Luka. “I handed in my two weeks, right? And fucking Odette,” she was so cute when she swore, though he doubted that was the effect she was going for, “you remember Odette, right?”  
  
Luka did not, but Marinette continued on even after he shook his head. Apparently his knowing her was not important to the story.  
  
“Well, she kept sending me all these stupid corrections today!” Marinette flapped her hands in exasperation and stood up straight, the legs of her chair hitting the floor as Luka rested his chin in his hand and his elbow on the edge of his acoustic.  
  
“Yeah?” he said, just to let her know he was still listening.  
  
“Yeah! She got the measurements wrong for one of the customers, _again_ . And instead of fixing _her_ mistake, she blamed _me_ for making the dress wrong! I was just _so_ \--” Marinette flailed her hands around again before burying them in her loose hair to tug in frustration. Luka watched her, fascinated, as she continued with her story.  
  
She regalled him with a take of Odette and her manager, Amelia, as they continued to blame Marinette for mistake after mistake throughout the day. She painted them as wicked demons in the fiery hells of bridal boutiques. And as they had continued to send Marinette correction after correction, she had finally cracked and declared that she had had enough.   
  
Luka listened and watched her the entire time, admiring the passionate fury she was working herself into, while slipping into his own thoughts as he began to lose track of the details of her story. His mind was busy formatting music, conjuring up lyrics and wondering if he could somehow turn this situation into a new song.  
  
“And _then_ \--” Marinette continued, turning her full attention back on him. Luka straightened up under her anger, not wanting to look like he hadn’t been paying attention. “Amelia has the absolute _gall_ to ask me to have all the wedding dresses done by _tomorrow_ .” She was practically screeching in indignation now, “Twelve dresses, re-seamed and re-ribboned, by _tomorrow_ !” Marinette finally took a shuddering breath before collapsing onto the bench Luka was occupying, before burying her face in her hands.  
  
“What’d you do next?” Luka asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on her knee in comfort. She sighed, obviously stifling a sob.  
  
“I. . . I said ‘fuck you bitch!’ and then I stormed out. . . In front of the customers.”  
  
Luka blinked, staring at her for a moment to process what she’s just told him, before bursting into laughter.  
  
“Nooo,” Marinette whined, looking up to glare at him. “It’s not funny! Amelia might not send me my last paycheck now! I worked hard for that money!” she growled in outrage, wiggling her still bandaged fingers in his face.  
  
“Who cares?” Luke finally chuckled, trying his best to stifle his amusement. “Now you can spend all your newly-found free time sketching designs, like you wanted.”  
  
Marinette pouted at him before snorting and crossing her arms, “You’re only saying that because you like sneaking peeks at them.”  
  
He mimed crossing his fingers over his heart, holding his head high. “I promise to only look at the ones you show me, okay?” Her amused giggle was worth the promise.  
  


* * *

  
Exactly four months after _La Mar en Été_ had signed with _Record Star Studios_ , the album was finally done. Four months of spending twelve-hour days in the studio coming up with new music and refining older tracks. Four months where Luka got to see Marinette five days a week. She had her own little side room attached to their recording studio, and she spent the same amount of hours as them in there each day working on the clothing they would need for their various engagements. The past month alone she had been hard at work creating couture outfits for everyone for the album’s launch party. One day Marinette had let slip that she wasn’t intending to attend the party. At Luka’s insistence, she had started work on her own outfit, though she had refused to let any of them see what it looked like.  
  
Tonight was the big night. Tonight they were doing the album launch party at _Le Grand Paris_ . A dozen company executives would be there, along with an untold number of other celebrities, including Jagged Stone. How Juleka and he had kept their paternity under wraps the entire time was still a mystery to him, but he didn’t doubt the secret wouldn’t last past tonight.  
  
Luka had been talking with one industry rep after another all night, Juleka at his side. The rest of the band had long abandoned them, not interested in the slightest in brown-nosing as Alix liked to call it. They knew Luka was the best suited to it out of the group, and would keep their best interests in mind. He was just lucky that Juleka loved him enough to not throw him to the proverbial wolves as well. Even if she hadn’t said anything all night, her quiet presence next to him was a steady comfort.  
  
He was nodding along to some executive, whose name he had already forgotten, as the man regaled him with tales about the olden days of music when he saw her. At first it was just a persistent twinkling in his peripheral vision. Just someone’s jewelry catching on the overhead lights he said to himself. When it didn’t stop he turned to peek and felt his breath catch. Marinette was standing at the top of the long staircase leading down into the crowded ballroom. She was leaning on the railing, staring around the area below her with rapt curiosity.  
  
Luka apologized to the surrounding people, not even hearing whatever they might have said in return, before he took off across the ballroom towards the foot of the stairs. Vaguely he noticed somewhere along the way Juleka had peeled off him to join Rose and the rest of the band. Halfway there, Marinette finally started her way slowly down the staircase, eyes still sweeping across the room. At the last few steps she finally noticed him waiting for her at the bottom.  
  
“Oh, Luka!” She looked happy to see him, and he felt his heart swell. He offered her his arm as she stepped off the final step, feeling elation when she slipped her slim arm through his own. “This is all so amazing!  
  
Luka wasn’t even sure he comprehended what she said, too busy roving his eyes over her figure. “You look amazing,” he breathed. And she did. She was wearing a soft grey dress, the bottom made entirely of tulle, much like the dress she had worn to that dinner so long ago, a dress he had also loved. The dress had thin straps wrapping over her shoulder, and the entire top was dotted with a thousand tiny rhinestones that caught the light every time she moved. It was accented by a deep V, cutting down her cleavage to nearly her navel, that he was desperately trying not to look at.   
  
He let his eyes give one more sweep over her figure before settling on her face. Her cheeks were a soft pink, probably embarrassed from his perusal, though he hoped she was also pleased. The dark makeup she wore stood out starkly against her pale skin, but he had to admit he definitely liked the dark red, almost black, lipstick she wore. He didn’t want to admit what it was doing to him.  
  
“Thank you, Luka. I’ve never made something so. . . Involved before.” From what he knew, she had spent almost the entire month working on this, and now he knew why. Adding each rhinestone piece by piece must have taken the bulk of the time. Marinette reached out with her free hand, tugging on the lapel of his own black suit. “I’ve never made a tailored suit, either. But I must say I’m quite pleased with how it came out.” It didn’t scream punk, or whatever aesthetic they were going for with the band, but at this moment he was just glad to not look totally out of place at her side.   
  
Luka cleared his throat, trying to clear his head of all the thoughts running rampant within it as well. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, gesturing to the crowded dance floor. The hotel’s music selection had alternated all night, switching between playing songs from their upcoming album to other music that was more traditionally danced to. He had no idea how to do any traditional dances, other than what he had gleaned from television over the years. But if Marinette wanted to dance, he was damn well going to try.  
  
Marinette smiled at him, a soft sweet thing that had his heart doing flips in his chest, and nodded. Luke took a step back from her, bowing and holding out his hand like he’d seen the dapper gentlemen on the television do. He was rewarded with a shy giggle as Marinette slipped her hand into his own. He swept them onto the dance floor, avoiding the bodies that were slowly circling the space. Luka settled his other arm around her waist, tensing in surprise when he found nothing but skin. Apparently the deep V on the front of her dress was mirrored on the back as well. He hesitated a moment before fanning his fingers out across her warm skin, the contented sigh she let out the only clue that she might have enjoyed it.  
  
He had been determined to keep his eyes up, staring pointedly at the faceless people on the edges of the dance floor as they twirled. But one too many near trips forced him to spend more time looking at his feet. Marinette and he had been close before, not quite touching, but close enough to brush against each other with each turn. Now that Luka was forced to take a conscious step backwards so he could actually see where he was stepping, he was just grateful that so far he had avoided stepping on her toes at all. He looked down, deliberately skipping past the cleavage on display with a red face, trying to ignore the hint of a crestfallen look on hers.   
  
They didn’t talk through most of the song, partially because he spent most of his time concentrating on where he was putting his feet and their bodies. As the music started to end he looked up, intending to ask her if she would like to maybe dance again, or perhaps get something to drink, and a bite to eat. Luka swallowed his words before he could get any of them out. She wasn’t even looking at him. He followed her gaze to find her watching Adrien Agreste on the other side of the ballroom. The famous singer was talking animatedly with a blonde woman who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.   
  
Luka took another step back from her, seeming to startle Marinette when her wide eyes flew back to him. “It was lovely to dance with you, Marinette,” he said, feeling a sadness creeping over him. “I’m going to go and get something to drink, I hope you have a lovely night.” He turned and left, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the dance floor and staring at Adrien Agreste. What had started as the best night of his life, another in a long string of them, had morphed into something that left a sour taste in his mouth. A flavor he was determined to drown out and numb.


	4. half heart

_half heart  
  
_ _When there's no comfort in comfortable  
_ _The stolen chances and colored cars  
_ _You can invest with your full heart  
_ _You feel it crumble before you start_

_  
  
_The weeks that followed the album launch party were a whirlwind of activity. Luka found himself attending multiple interviews for music magazines to talk about the process of writing for the album and the single that had slowly inched its way to being a top-three hit. Normally he’d be pretty upset with the lack of recognition for the rest of the band, but he knew they preferred to stay out of the limelight whenever possible. Each outing, Marinette dressed him. Simple outfits that weren’t quite as over the top as some of the things he had peeked in her books for their upcoming tour, including a whole slew of outfits for their first music video.  
  
Everyone was excited to be filming a video, even if it just meant more grueling hours like when they had been recording. The studio said it would only take roughly a week to get it all done, but that the week would be full of eighteen hour days. The band would have two weeks off while the company set up all the contracts required for touring before they set out on their first solo tour.   
  
Luka had been able to convince the executives to let Marinette stay on the main tour bus with them rather than being forced to make her own way. They had the room available with him fulfilling both vocalist and guitarist roles. Convincing her to even come along had been a challenge. Apparently seamstresses normally stayed behind.  
  
Luka, Marc, and Marinette were all currently crowded together on one of the couches in the mixing room, following along as their main handler laid out all the stops they would be making on the upcoming tour. Luka had stopped paying attention about halfway through, in no small part because Marinette was pressed up against him, head lulling onto his shoulder in boredom. Marc was still paying attention, and taking copious amounts of notes. Luka would just get the information from the other guitarist whenever he had time later.  
  
The handler started packing up all his sheets, “We’ll have another meeting when we have more information to give out.” He nodded to them all in goodbye before leaving them all lounging on the couch.  
  
Marc was still scribbling away as Luka turned his full attention to the half-asleep Marinette. He shifted to the side, the petite woman moving with him and seemingly unwilling to give up the pillow she had made of his shoulder.   
  
“Hey, Marinette,” he whispered, not wanting to wake her up just yet if she didn’t want to be. “Did you want to go get some lunch?”  
  
Marinette blinked owlishly up at him, taking a moment longer than normal to process what he’d said. She yawned, too tired to cover her mouth, before twisting at the hip and turning to look at Marc.   
  
“Did you want to get lunch with us, Marc?”  
  
The other guitarist looked up from his notes to answer before jerking back in surprise. Luka was glaring daggers at him and slowly shaking his head behind Marinette. “Er, no thanks. I’m going to go see Nathaniel for. . . Something.” Marc hastily packed away his notes before scurrying out of the room with a hurried goodbye.  
  
Marinette watched him go before shrugging. She turned her attention back to Luka, staring up at him through her lashes. “Looks like it’s just us.”  
  
Luka smiled, pleased that Marc had understood him and he’d gotten his way. He reached with his free hand--the one that wasn’t laying across the back of the couch and aching--to physically wrap around Marinette, to boop her nose with his pointer. He laughed when her eyes went cross-eyed trying to follow the path of his finger. Luka wanted to kiss her pout off her face.  
  
“As if I have a problem with that.”  
  
They left the studio, walking quietly for a few blocks, each lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming tour and all they still had to do. Eventually, Luka turned his attention to his companion. “Where would you like to go for lunch? My treat.”  
  
Marinette glanced over at him, scrunching up her nose as she contemplated his question. Seemingly unable to immediately think of anything, she took to looking around the area they were in for some sort of inspiration. She spied a small cafe further down the block, nestled between two other small stores.   
  
“How about there?” she asked, pointing it out to him. They both stopped in front of the small fencing surrounding an outdoor eating section. “Do you want to sit outside? It’s a nice day.”  
  
Luka nodded his agreement and they selected a small table in the corner of the section where they could safely talk without being bothered by passersby every few minutes. They pursued the menus laying out on the table silently for a few minutes before placing orders when the waitress finally came around. Marinette ordered what she referred to as, 'a big, fat, juicy burger'. It was a pleasant surprise from his last girlfriend, who had always ordered nothing but water and salad.  
  
Taking a sip of his drink, Luka lounged back against the white metalwork chair, idly tapping out a new beat on the wooden tabletop. “So what kind of creations are you dreaming up for our music video?” He still didn’t know what they were doing for said music video. Marinette and the director had been collaborating over the look he knew, but so far no one had seen fit to inform the band members themselves about the direction of it.  
  
The seamstress dug around in the bag she had brought along, producing one of the many sketchbooks she had taken to carrying around. This one had ‘video looks’ drawn on the cover in big loopy letters. Luka’s lips quirked in amusement at the sight as she flipped it open, thumbing through the pages before stopping on one about a quarter of the way in. She twisted the book so he could see it right side up and pointed at the outfit sketched within.  
  
“This is what I’m thinking about for you.”   
  
It looked like Marinette had been going for a military inspired look. Luka wondered if everyone else’s outfits would follow that trend or if he would stand out. The pants and shirt itself were plain, black and white respectively. But the jacket he would be wearing had a streak of navy blue through it to denote it’s over all color. Half-colored golden buttons marched up the edges of the front opening, with stark white lines denoting where the lapels and extra decoration would be.  
  
Luka whistled in appreciation. “It’s a killer outfit.”  
  
He loved it, though he had loved most things she had made for him so far, so that wasn’t saying much. He couldn’t wait to wear it. Luka was fairly certain that after wearing it for untold hours when they started filming he would begin to hate it, but he still wanted to keep it. Locked away in a closet as a pleasant memory.  
  
“May I?” he asked, indicating the further pages. At her nod, he began flipping through more, tilting his head to get the right look at the other outfits.  
  
It seemed he’d be the only one sporting the military styled look. Assuming the outfits on some of the following pages were for the music video that was. He continued to flip through the pages, stopping on what looked like another evening dress for Marinette. He knew neither Juleka or Alix would be caught dead in something like it.   
  
Luka traced one of the lines of the flared skirt, glancing up at her with a crooked grin. “This is very pretty. Are you going to wear it to the next party?”  
  
Marinette snatched the sketchbook from him, her face turning slowly red, stowing it back into her bag while the waitress came back to place their food in front of them. “I don’t know. Maybe, assuming I don’t get hit with any other inspiration.”   
  
They talked quietly as they ate about the upcoming music video, and the promotional photoshoots in the same outfits that would accompany its release. _La Mar en Été_ had to start hyping up the tour as soon as it was done, there was only a few weeks between them finishing and them having to leave.  
  
“Who’s going to take care of Sass?” Marinette finally asked after the food had been cleared away and they were left sipping at the last of their drinks. “I feel bad, I never asked who watched him last time.”  
  
Luka stood, offering his hand to help her up. “He’s going to stay with my friend, Henri. He watched him last time, too.” Marinette’s hand slipped out of his once she’d stood. He missed the warmth within seconds, but didn’t say anything as they made their way back to the studio after fighting over who was going to pay for the check. A fight he was happy to win. Luka held the door open for her when they reached the recording studio, following her through the halls back to their private room.   
  
When they opened the door, M Damocles was inside, talking quietly to a blond man that was turned away from them. By the looks of it, it appeared to be Adrien Agreste, though Luka wasn’t sure why he would even be here. They hadn’t grown close enough over the tour to warrant a check up. Adrien’s time had been more than a little monopolized by the other people in his life, like his assistant Lila. He had been cordial at least.  
  
The blond turned and Luka felt himself stiffen in anger. It was Félix. After spending a length of time with Adrien, it became easy to tell them apart despite the uncanny resemblance they shared. Adrien never looked so. . . _Smarmy_ was a good word, Luka thought. He glanced over at Marinette and saw her own body tense with her own outrage as she glared with undisguised hatred at Félix.  
  
Luka turned back to the pair, wanting this interaction to be over with. “M Damocles, to what do we owe this pleasure?”  
  
“Luka, my boy!” The man wrapped an arm around Félix, seeming not to notice when the blond’s face took on an even nastier quality at the contact. M Damocles dragged the blond closer to both Luka and Marinette.   
  
“The studio decided that we’d like to have live wind instruments for the tour rather than a backing track!” M Damocles slapped Félix on the back, causing him to jerk forward at the excessive force. “And Félix here just so happens to play a number of instruments and be under contract with the studio!”  
  
Luka was at a loss for words. Unsure what exactly to do, he turned back to look at Marinette to find her even angrier--if that was even possible. Surprisingly, however, she didn’t say a word. Marinette pivoted on her heel and stomped into her little workroom, slamming the door behind her. Luka watched her go, torn between going to her or staying where he was. The rattling of the glass on her door was the only sound in the room for a long awkward moment.  
  
M Damocles didn’t give him much of a choice. He glared first at the still-rattling door before turning the look on Luka. “I don’t know what her problem is, but you better sort it out. Or I’ll sort her out myself.”   
  
The threat was clear. Luka could only nod as M Damocles escorted a smirking Félix out of the room. Luka wanted to punch the smug look off his face even more than he had wanted to when they’d met at the dinner forever ago. How was he going to explain this to Marinette?  
  
“. . . Shit.”  
  


* * *

  
Almost an hour after Marinette had stormed into her workroom, she was still nearly vibrating with barely suppressed anger. She had been muttering to herself on and off the entire time, having choice words for both Félix and _Record Star Studios_ . In that time, she’d managed to stab herself with her needles an untold number of times. Staring at the article of clothing in her hands, it dawned on her that this meant she was going to have to make _clothes_ for that blond asshole. Marinette let loose a scream of rage, tossing what she’d been working on over her shoulder in a fit of pique.  
  
She sat still for a few minutes, breathing in and out through her nose, trying to calm herself. She started to feel slightly ashamed of her reaction, even if there was no possibility of anyone hearing her, the entire room was soundproof so she didn’t have to hear the recording. Marinette swiveled in her chair, startled to see Luka still sitting out in the main room. He was hunched forward, leg bouncing a mile a minute, and staring down at his interlocked hands. He seemed to be talking to himself.  
  
Marinette watched him until he finally turned and looked into her work domain. He didn’t seem particularly surprised to see her watching him, he just looked resigned, but about what she didn’t know.   
  
Luka got up and pulled open her door enough to poke his head inside, “Hey, uh, can we talk?” He didn’t sound confident at all, despite the smile he was now trying to give her.  
  
She nodded, scooting her chair closer to the couch where he had perched himself right on the edge. Instantly his leg started going again. _Nerves_ , she thought. Only she didn’t know what he had to be nervous about. Unless he had to make a decision about Félix or her, and Luka didn’t know how to tell her that he had gone with the violinist. Feeling her own heart begin to race in nerves, Marinette crumpled in on herself, mind whirling on what she could do. Would the bridal boutique even take her back after she’d stormed out in spectacular fashion?  
  
After a full minute of them both locked inside their heads, where Luka had gone back to glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended him, Marinette finally worked up the courage to lean forward and rest her hand on his knee. His leg instantly stopped its movement, but she could still feel the muscle twitching under her palm.  
  
“Luka, what’s going on?” She wasn’t liking the almost desperate look he was giving her.  
  
He took a deep breath, holding it for a long time before releasing it out. He scooped up her hand that was still resting on his knee and began stroking a soothing pattern over her palm with his thumbs.   
  
“Say the word and he’s gone,” he finally said with much more conviction than his posture was showing.  
  
Marinette’s first instinct was to say _yes_ . But she bit her tongue against the impulse and swallowed the words. _La Mar en Été_ was still new, and if the studio head was offering Félix--and it had been less of an offer and more like a foregone conclusion--she didn’t think they were really in a position to be saying no.  
  
“What do you think would happen if you said no?” she finally asked.  
  
Luka shrugged, looking away from her and turning his sad gaze to the wall, leg starting to bounce with his restless energy again. “I’m willing to risk it,” he finally mumbled in response.  
  
He might have been willing to risk it, but was the rest of the band, who didn’t even know? Was _she_ ? There was no guarantee they’d keep their contract even if they said no, and then they’d all be out the opportunity. This was Luka’s dream, and she could let him give that up just because she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Félix. Marinette slipped her hands out of his, moving to sit on the couch next to him and wrapping her arms around him in what she hoped was a comforting hug, and a smile that conveyed as much gratitude as she was feeling.  
  
“I really appreciate it, Luka. But I’ll be alright,” she tried to assure him. Luka didn’t quite look like he believed her, but he didn’t say anything in return, silently taking the lifeline she had offered.  
  


* * *

  
Filming on the music video had commenced, and the countdown to the tour had begun. Marinette was spending the majority of her time in the studio, putting all the finishing touches on the various stage outfits the band would be wearing. Including a special set that would only be used for the final show. She hadn’t seen any of her friends, be they in the band or otherwise, for the past week and a half. While Luka and the rest of _La Mar en Été_ had been spending eighteen hour days on set, she had been spending just as much time hunched over a sewing desk, trying to churn out everything they needed on an increasingly short deadline.  
  
Marinette flipped on the light switch to her work room, mentally going through the pieces for the tour wrap party and trying to determine which outfits she could bring along to work on while on the bus. She wouldn’t have access to a sewing station, so they had to be something she could do by hand. _Juleka’s dress, maybe my own?_ she mused to herself. She dumped her bag on the little loveseat in the room, turning to her workstation to begin another long day of sewing before stopping short.  
  
On her mostly-bare table was a vibrant red rose, only partially bloomed, a bright blue piece of paper folded under it. Hesitantly she picked up the rose, surprised to see that all the thorns had been carefully clipped off. Marinette pressed her nose against the petals, inhaling, and enjoying the heady scent. She turned her attention to the note, she picked it up and flipped it open, smiling at the contents.  
  
 _I hope you’re having a better week than we are, who knew filming would be so exhausting? Everyone is loving your outfits, per usual.  
  
_ _Miss you, Luka  
  
_ It was. . .Cute. They’d barely even had time to text lately. Both Luka and Marinette wanted nothing more than to collapse into their beds whenever they got around to leaving their respective tasks. He rarely got any free time to play with his phone during the shooting, so they usually had to make due with a quick ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ text whenever they could keep their eyes open long enough.  
  
Marinette dug around in her bag for a water bottle. After dumping half the contents out in the bathroom, she slipped the rose in, unnecessarily fussing with it until it looked just right. She placed it on the corner of her desk, the one shoved into the corner of the room so it wasn’t in any danger of falling. She sat smiling at it for a few moments before digging out her phone to snap a picture to send to Luka.  
  
 _Thank you so much for the flower, you cheered my day right up_ !  
  
She hit ‘send’ before she could do something stupid, like tell him she missed him, too. Marinette pulled up their album on her phone, setting it to blasting through her enclosed space, she liked to listen to it for inspiration for the looks she was creating. Puffing out her cheeks, she tapped at her face in an effort to wake up a little more. Why was she coming in at the crack of dawn when she could just stay really late again?  
  
“Right! Let’s get to it.”  
  


* * *

  
The roar from the crowd was deafening. A dozen people were rushing around him, screaming back and forth as they finished some last minute checks and tasks before _La Mar en Été_ could take the stage. Luka kept his eyes closed through it all, breathing deeply and trying to calm his nerves. It was their first show of the tour, right in their hometown of Paris, and it didn’t compare at all to playing as an opening band. Their own starting act, who they sadly hadn’t gotten to pick out themselves, had just exited on the other side of the stage, he hadn’t even gotten to watch them. Now the crowd was slowly working themselves into a mob as they awaited the band's arrival. Luka never thought they’d be here, taking the stage, let alone with _three_ top five-hits across Europe.  
  
He took another deep breath before peeking open a single eye to stare down at Marinette, who was still busy fussing with the lower half of his clothing. It only took a few seconds of watching her before he snapped the eye shut again, mainly because he was reminded of why he had closed his eyes in the first place. Having Marinette on her knees in front of him while she played with his pants was. . . It was definitely something he was going to be thinking about after the show that was for sure.  
  
Marinette stood up, giving one last tug to the leather jacket he was wearing, nearly causing him to tip forward at the suddenness of it. “Right, you’re all set. Break a leg, Luka!”  
  
She was smiling up at him, and Luka would have enjoyed nothing more right now than a simple kiss of encouragement. But their relationship was already rocky as it was. She flirted, he flirted, he tried to say _I like you_ without having the courage to actually come out and say it, and she stared at Adrien Agreste whenever he was in the vicinity. Luka didn’t think he would be capable of not throwing in little flirts here and there, unless she asked him to stop of course, but he was determined to give her space if she wasn’t interested. Even if it broke his heart.  
  
When Luka didn’t move, Marinette forcibly spun him around and gave him a shove to the edge of the curtain. He turned to give her a mock glare, but she only grinned impishly back at him. He gave his own small tug on the jacket, trying to get more comfortable in it and already feeling like he was overheating.  
  
“Right, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled to himself.  
  
He already felt exhausted, and nervous beyond words. Luka could only hope that when he actually got up on stage, the crowd’s chaotic energy would somehow transfer over to him and make this whole thing easier. Juleka slinked up next to him, fidgeting in her own outfit. A plain black shirt with flared sleeves, and a high-waisted asymmetrical plaid skirt with a faux corset. His eyes slide from observing her to the other side of the stage where he could see Alix and Marc pacing back and forth with their own restless energy, and behind them Félix looking as disgruntled as ever. They were all eager to get out there and get things started, and over with, it seemed.  
  
“We can do this, Juleka.” Luka wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure. Himself, who was about ready to die with nerves, or Juleka who was starting to look a little green in the face.  
  
The lights, which had been nice and bright for the opening act, suddenly dimmed, the signal that the band was to make their way onto the stage. There was no more time to think about it as Juleka followed him on stage and to where their instruments were ready and waiting. Luka slipped the strap over his body, took one last deep breath, and turned to the crowd. He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved that he couldn’t see any of them.  
  
When they had been opening for Adrien, the whole arena had been nice and bright. The only lights on the stage had been the ones from overhead. Now the entire venue was dark, and the stage was lit up from the lights that lined the front of the stage and the spotlights all the way in the back. Luka tried his best not to let it distract him as the band worked their way through the first couple of songs. The energy from the crowd was finally starting to seep into his bones, and soon enough he was looping around the stage, screaming and showing off right along with the fans.  
  
Halfway through their set, they stopped playing long enough to welcome Félix to the stage. “Everyone, let’s give a warm welcome to Félix Graham de Vanily, he’ll be providing backing instruments for the next few songs!” Luka did his best to ignore the other man’s presence, thanking whatever deity responsible that Félix was stuck up enough to insist on traveling alone, rather than with the rest of the band and Marinette. If he hadn’t, Luka was sure someone would have turned up dead by now.   
  
While the blond was setting up, Luka peeled off the leather jacket, ignoring the clamoring of the fans to throw it out among them. He tossed it to the side of the stage he’d come from, watching only long enough to see Marinette scoop it up and hold it close. He gave her a lopsided grin in thanks before turning his attention back to the task at hand. He already felt much cooler without the restricting leather. Luka was grateful that Marinette had kept the outfits relatively low key, all he was wearing under it was a tight white shirt. A very, very, tight white shirt. If Marinette hadn’t been making him a slew of clothing, he’d be worried she had forgotten his measurements.   
  
The crowd cheered as soon as Félix was done setting up, which Luka didn’t think the little shit deserved at all. They also didn’t seem to notice his resemblance to Adrien Agreste, in large part because Marinette had gone out of her way to dress them wildly differently, going so far as to scheme with the makeup crew to make the differences even more severe. When Luka had asked earlier after spying Félix, she had told him something about not wanting any other girls to get duped.  
  
They steadily worked their way through more of the album as the night wore on. Despite the exhaustion slowly building up, Luka felt elation surging through him each time the crowd sang along with him. He hoped he never got used to this, never learned to take the experience for granted like Jagged had eventually done. When they reached the last song of the night, Luka tried to infuse as much energy as he could into his playing, jumping around the stage. He even went so far as to climb onto one of the amps, leaping off during a particularly energetic solo.  
  
Panting from the thrill of it all at the end, Luka tossed his guitar pick into the crowd, pleased when the rest of the band followed his example, tossing their own picks and drum sticks out. All of them looked pleased with what they accomplished, but they also looked like they weren’t going to be on their feet for much longer either.   
  
“Thank you all so much for coming out!” Luka screamed out into the crowd. He felt Juleka slip her hand into his, with Marc grabbing his other one. He turned and saw Alix grab Marc’s before they all took a bow to the still-riled crowd. Detaching, the band all slowly made their way off the stage. Once Luka passed the boundary of the stage curtain, exhaustion hit him like a truck, and all he wanted to do was take a shower and pass out on his not-so-comfortable tour bus bunk.  
  
Each band member disappeared into their own dressing room, but there was no sign of Marinette. With a shrug, he decided he’d see her later no doubt, Luka went into his own dressing room, already peeling off pieces of clothing. Fully stripping down, he dumped the clothes into a pile on one of the many chairs dotting the room. He stopped long enough to grab a pair of sweatpants and a towel before making a beeline for the bathroom.  
  
Luka enjoyed twenty blessed minutes under the hot spray, barely having the energy to even wash up, letting it ease out the tension in his muscles before he was forced to switch the water off. They only got an hour or so after playing their last song before they had to be on the bus so they could drive through the night. The production crew would be here until the early hours of the morning, however. He still needed to pack all his stuff up, and see if catering had anything left to eat. Otherwise he would be running somewhere close by to try and find a place that was open after midnight.  
  
Stepping out of the shower, Luka patted himself dry enough to pull on his sweatpants before dropping the towel over his still damp hair. Closing his eyes against the harsh lights of the dressing room, he plopped himself down the sofa right outside the bathroom. Resting his head back against the edge of the sofa, he let the cool air of the overhead fan slowly drop his body temperature back to an acceptable level. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, towel slipping over his eyes to block out even more of the light, the gentle whooshing of the fan the only noise, before something crashing on the other side of the room had him jerking back to wakefulness.  
  
Luka ripped the damp towel off his head, staring at Marinette, who was sitting at the light-up vanity and staring at him, her face a lovely shade of red. He definitely hadn’t heard her come in, and she hadn’t been there when he had first come in that was for sure. His clothes were still in a pile right next to her, so she’d come in while he was showering, and been there the entire time he’d been sitting here. He flopped back bonelessly into the cushions, heaving a great sigh.  
  
“You scared the shit out of me, Marinette.”  
  
When the woman didn’t say anything, Luka peeked an eye open to see what she was doing. She was still just sitting at the vanity, face growing redder by the second, and staring at him as if she’d never seen him before in her life.  
  
“Uh, are you alright, Marinette?”  
  
His question seemed to knock her out of whatever reverie she was in as she twisted around and started shoving things into her bag. "You have a lot of freight-- I mean great-- I meant, you're FINE! _It's_ fine!!!" she stuttered out. Marinette was now refusing to even look in his direction as she crammed everything within reach into the carry bags, including all his stuff. Not that he would complain when it saved him the trouble of doing it himself.  
  
Luka watched her get up and scurry around the room to pick up everything else, including the box of sewing supplies she had upended and startled him awake with, mulling over what she had said. He was _fine_ was he? A wicked smile slowly slid over his face at her admission.   
  
“Hey, Marinette. Do you want to go grab something to eat before the bus takes off?” Screw catering, there would be too many people there, if they even had anything left that was.   
  
Marinette stilled, her hand hovering over some empty water bottles that still needed to be thrown out. “S-sure! Where were you thinking?” She finally finished picking up the last few things.  
  
They were still in Paris, so finding something they were both familiar with would be easy enough. Luka stood up, making his way over to her slowly. Marinette was frozen in place as he leaned over her, pressing his bare chest against the smooth material of her shirt to grab his own shirt out of one of the many bags she had stuffed full to bursting. He backed up a step to pull it on, giving his hair one last ruffle with the towel before dropping it on one of the bigger bags with the pile of dirty clothes. Marinette, who’s face had started to cool during her mad dash around the room, was blushing again.   
  
“Well, I think there’s a corner store down the street from here, it’s probably the only thing still open right now,” he mused, scooping up as many bags as he could carry and leaving her just a few to carry on her own.  
  
Marinette slowly shook herself out of her frozen state, picking up the remaining bags. Luka didn’t comment on her red cheeks, though it brought a self-satisfied smirk to his face. He held the door open for her, giving the room one last once over before switching the light off and following her out of the building.  
  
They deposited the bags back on the tour bus, being as quiet as they could when they saw Juleka’s purple hair already peeking out from under one of the blankets. Once back outside, they took off in the direction of where Luka thought the store was. The occasional glance at the time told them they’d have to be in and out, they were already cutting it dangerously close.  
  
They chose to enter the first place they came across that looked like it served food. It was a dingy little hole in the wall that boasted having some of the best fried food this side of the Seine. Luka wasn’t sure which contest they were participating in, but he seriously doubted that claim was true. After pursuing the menu, what little there was of it, he and Marinette both put in orders for something simple. At least it smelled good, even if the place looked more run down than some of the dive bars he’d been to.  
  
Both of them were quiet as they waited, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for as long as possible, which wouldn’t be long between the humming of the bus and the general uncomfortableness of the bunks. Marinette didn’t look much better. Luka didn’t realize he had started to doze off with his head in his hand until the cook calling their order jerked him back awake. They paid for their food and found the first bench on the way back towards the venue to eat on.  
  
“So how do you think the show went?” Marinette asked after a few bites, the food seeming to liven her back up.  
  
The food didn’t seem to be doing much for Luka however, only making him even sleepier. “It was totally different from being an opening act-” he paused to yawn loudly, picking at what was left of his food. “I was exhausted before I even got on stage. The crowd pumped me back up for a while.” He stopped speaking again to rub tiredly at his face. “Now I just want to curl up somewhere and sleep for half a day.”  
  
Marinette giggled, taking his empty tray and tossing both of theirs into the garbage. She stood up and slipped her hands into his, tugging him to stand. She caught him when he lurched forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. She let him stay like that for a moment, enjoying his hot breath against her skin and his nonsensical murmurs, if her soft shivers were anything to go by. Eventually she twisted so they were both facing the same way. She mumbled something about how being even a little bit taller would make this infinitely easier.  
  
“I like short Marinette, you fit under my arm perfectly.” He gave her a tired smile.  
  
Marinette just sighed at him. “Come on Luka, let’s get you to bed.” They began the trek back to the tour bus. Luka wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning more into her to keep himself upright. They were quiet the rest of the way back, but found one of the stage managers waiting outside of the bus for them.  
  
“Oh, thank god! We were about to call you!” The manager positioned himself on the other side of Luka, helping Marinette practically lift him bodily up the bus steps. Once inside the manager left her to finish the job as he went to tell the driver they could finally depart.  
  
Marinette led Luka back to the rear of the bus where the bunks were. She looked between him, still blinking blearily at her, and to the very top bunk he had claimed as his own. Instead she directed him to her own bunk, helping him take off his shoes and lay down, before tucking him into the pink and white comforter she’d brought from home.  
  
“Sweet dreams, Luka.”  
  
Before she could move away, he snagged her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, smiling up at her sleepily. “My dreams are always sweet when you’re in them.” Luka watched her go, a small smile on her face, and climb into his bunk before he rolled over to face the wall. He buried his face in her pillow, enjoying the scents that were distinctly _Marinette_ before drifting off.  
  


* * *

  
Luka woke surrounded by the enticing scent of vanilla. He spent a few minutes letting the sweet smell lull him back towards the equally sweet embrace of sleep before jerking awake when he realized just what the smell was. _Marinette_ . He leaned back, staring in horror at what he was currently cuddling to his chest. He was both relieved and a little disappointed to see that it was only her pillow and not actually Marinette herself.  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Luka took stock of his surroundings. This was definitely Marinette’s bunk. It was only a temporary housing unit, and it might not even last through their next tour if they got big enough, but she had obviously tried to make it home. There was an assortment of pictures taped to the small space of the wall afforded to them. Friends he had seen with Juleka before, and a print out of the picture with him and her smiling at the bar from forever ago. The fact that she liked him enough to print out their picture, even when they’d be seeing each other every day right now, brought a smile to his face. Jammed into the corner of the bunk was also a small stuffed animal that looked vaguely like a ladybug. For anyone else it would be childish, but for Marinette it just seemed to fit.  
  
Luka flopped back in the bed, hugging the pillow to his face and just enjoying the scent for another moment. How had he actually wound up in Marinette’s bed? She wasn’t here, and he didn’t _think_ anything had happened. He hadn’t been _that_ tired last night that he wouldn’t remember something like that. . . Was he? No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t remember anything past paying for his food last night, everything else was a tired blur.  
  
Shoving the pillow to the side, Luka hastened to climb out of the bed and figure out just what happened last night. A quick glance out one of the few windows in the back end of the bus confirmed that they were no longer moving. They must be at the halfway point between shows, though he hadn’t been paying enough attention during the presentation to even remember what the name of the town was. Marinette wasn’t in her bed, so without stopping to change, Luka yanked the curtain separating the sections of the bus aside, intent on finding her, only to run right into her.  
  
“Oh!” She startled, leaning back away from him. “I was just coming to wake you up, are you hungry?”  
  
She was smiling at him, and Luka took a moment to take her in before answering. Marinette appeared totally relaxed, beaming up at him like she did every other day. Nothing looked to be amiss. He reasoned that if he _had_ been inappropriate, and she hadn’t liked it, she would have had no problem letting him know. Probably would have broken his nose, too. Damn, that was a fond memory, made even more so now that they actually had to spend any amount of time around Félix.  
  
Not wanting to bring up his apparently irrational fear, Luka stepped aside so she could make her way back into the living area of the bus. “Uh sure, where were you thinking about getting breakfast?” Marinette’s answer would greatly affect whether he changed or not, and he really wanted to just lounge around in sweatpants and a T-shirt for the rest of the day.  
  
“I saw a cute little cafe down the street that I wanted to try out,” she beamed up at him. Damn, real clothing it was then. “Everyone else is off doing their own thing, so it’s just us.”   
  
Maybe real clothing wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
  
She waited for him while he changed in the cramped bathroom. When he came out he found her straightening out both of their beds. They left the bus to see Marinette had been right. He didn’t see anyone around at all except the shoppers for the stores whose parking lot they were currently in. They locked up the bus before setting off the way Marinette had indicated, chit-chatting about the tour and what they were both looking forward to the most.  
  
“I’m really hoping my body gets used to the type of energy needed for full shows,” he said. They had played almost their entire CD, and the more music they produced, the longer the concerts would get. Opening had only been a couple songs, and Luka longed for the simplicity of it. But he knew he wouldn’t be getting to spend nearly as much time with Marinette if that was the case, so it was worth it in the end.   
  
Marinette nodded along with him, “Yes, sewing on the bus has been an. . . Experience.” Obviously it sucked, even if she wasn’t willing to come right out and say as much to him. “But I’ve made decent progress.” He supposed that was what she did when they were practicing and setting up, though she had stuck around while they actually played.  
  
“I’m excited to see how popular the T-shirts I designed are too,” she continued. He hadn’t even known she’d designed them. The studio had submitted some designs for approval from the band, but other than that they hadn’t said where they’d come from. He’d have to make sure he got his hands on some. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Elijah yet--” Elijah was the person in charge of their merchandise sales, “--to find out how well everything sold last night.”  
  
“I have no doubt they were popular,” Luka reassured her. He would have to get some fast before they sold out. The band wasn’t popular enough yet where they’d be reprinting merchandise halfway through a tour. At least not big orders.  
  
They reached the cafe and Luka held the door open so she could enter before him. It was a cute little atmosphere, with tiny tables scattered all over the front room and a long glass counter taking up much of the far wall. A single door behind the counter led deeper into the building. Ignoring the other patrons, Luka and Marinette stepped up to the display, pursuing the selection within before placing an order.  
  
“You go sit, I’ll bring everything back.” Luka pointed out a table that was against one of the full wall windows. If the coffee didn’t wake them up, then the bright sunlight certainly would. Marinette stared at him with pursed lips for a good minute, probably debating if she wanted to argue about paying or not. She seemed to give up and gave him a quiet thanks before going over to claim the chair facing the window. He appreciated it since he wouldn’t have to stare at the early morning sun more than needed.  
  
Luka joined her after collecting, and paying for, their food. He slid into the small booth attached to the wall, placing the serving tray between them. Marinette thanked him again before closing her eyes and enjoying the long sip she took from her coffee cup.  
  
“Ah, that is one way to wake up.” She placed the cup back on the table with a small _clink_ , and Luka was amused to see it almost half empty already. He took a much smaller sip of his own coffee, preferring the slow approach to waking up. They enjoyed the first few bites of their breakfast in silence before Luka glanced up and saw that Marinette had a dollop of cream from her pastry on her cheek.   
  
Without even thinking, Luka leant forward and swiped it up with his thumb. Giving Marinette an impish grin, he licked the cream off of his finger, enjoying it’s sweetness as much as he enjoyed the reaction it elicited from Marinette. She was bright red, trying to stutter out words, but not managing to get anything out that sounded like a real word.  
  
“You had a little something on your face.” Luka’s statement brought out a mock glare from Marinette, causing him to laugh as he watched her go back to eating her pastry, _carefully_ , so she didn’t get any more on her face. He contented himself like that for a minute or so, slowly sipping his coffee, before he noticed someone on the other side of the cafe watching them.  
  
Looking over Marinette’s shoulder, he saw Félix alone at another table, drink and untouched pastry in front of him. The blond violinist was glaring daggers at him, eyes glittering with an unmasked hatred. Luka wasn’t sure what he had done to warrant such a reaction from him, though he could understand his hatred of Marinette, even if the little prick had deserved it in his opinion. But Félix wasn’t staring at just Marinette. His gaze was alternating between Marinette, who didn’t even know he was there, and Luka, who was watching him right back. Unwilling to waste any more energy on the insufferable man, Luka shot him a nasty look before focusing a smile back on Marinette, putting Félix and all of his venom out of his mind.


	5. Night Drive

_Night Drive_

_Kiss me with your cherry lipstick  
_ _Never wash you off my face  
_ _Hit me I can take your cheap shots  
_ _Leave you with the love we made_

_  
_Halfway through their European tour, the entire band and production crew were granted a small reprieve. They had an entire week off to themselves to relax and recharge for the final stretch of the tour. _Record Star Studio_ had even been kind enough to rent them all individual rooms so they could stretch their legs in an actual bed. Both Rose and Nathaniel had flown out to spend time with their significant others, roaming as a group around London where they had stopped for their break.  
  
During the downtime, Luka was determined to get Marinette alone and on a real date. But so far, getting a day, let alone a night, to themselves had been next to impossible. Everyone wanted to hang out and explore the city together. Finally, the night before they had to pack up and start off on the road again, he finally had his chance. The rest of the band was off doing their own thing, probably the same thing he intended on doing with Marinette if she would let him.  
  
Luka found her hunched over one of the few flat surfaces on the bus, a little table they usually ate at when no one could be bothered to go out somewhere. She had various sewing supplies scattered around her, none of which he understood the purpose of, as well as yards of fabric. He ran his hand down one of the unfurled rolls, a midnight blue velvet that had little white pinpricks of stars scattered throughout.  
  
“This is some beautiful fabric, Marinette,” he complimented, sliding into the only empty spot in the booth chairs that surrounded the table.  
  
Marinette only gave him a grunt in acknowledgement, too focused on the fabric she was carefully stitching seams into. Luka would have been perfectly content to spend the day like that, watching her create masterpieces, while he hummed along to some song or another. But he was visiting with a purpose today, and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance. Before he could lose his nerve, and praying the entire time that he had read the mixed signals right, he reached out when she finally stopped sewing to lay his own hand over hers, careful to avoid the sharp needle she still held between her fingers.  
  
“Marinette, I was wondering if. . . If you’d like to get dinner with me tonight?” he asked quietly.  
  
Marinette blinked at him, as if just realizing that he’d been there the entire time. She gave up the hunt for whatever she’d started looking for when she stopped sewing, and shoved the needle into a little red ball with black spots that was already stabbed through with a multitude of other needles.  
  
“Oh, where are we all going?” she asked innocently, not appearing to connect the dots.  
  
Luka’s lips quirked into a little smile despite what she had said. Maybe he should be annoyed that she was clueless about the whole thing, that her mind first went to a group outing instead of spending time alone, with him. But Luka chose to see it instead as a testament to Marinette’s big heart, that she was always thinking of everyone else’s happiness before her own.  
  
“No, Marinette, just you and me,” he clarified, feeling the warmth of happiness spread through him when her face lit up in a brilliant smile.  
  
“Okay! Yeah! That sounds great!” She glanced at the clock on the bus's microwave before turning a forlorn look to her sewing supplies still scattered around the area. The thoughts dancing across her face were obvious. She still had so much to do, not to mention just cleaning up. But even though it was already nearing dinner time, Luka was more than happy to wait a few more hours.  
  
“I’ve got some errands to run,” he mentioned, gesturing to the exit of the bus. Luka didn’t really have anything to do, but he was willing to wander around the city for a little bit if it meant Marinette would have the time to clean up and get ready. “I’ll meet you here in two hours?”  
  
Marinette nodded eagerly to him, already beginning to gather up all her supplies. “I can’t wait!” The excitement in her voice nurtured the little flame of hope in his chest. “What should I wear? Where are we going? Is it just dinner?”  
  
Luka laughed at her rapid fire questions, holding up his hands in an effort to stem the onslaught. She blushed, grinning sheepishly at him when she noticed his reaction. “It’s a surprise,” he said, meaning he hadn’t figured it out yet. He’d never been to London before, and he hadn’t even been sure she’d say yes.   
  
“But nowhere super fancy, it will be nice though,” Luka finally clarified. None of them had packed anything really dressy other than stage clothes. They had stuck mostly to comfortable pieces they could lounge around in, but they each had a couple pieces that could be rotated to create a couple of nicer outfits.  
  
Luka bid her goodbye, and she distractly responded, already focused back on her work, only this time she was busy shoving everything away into some kind of tiered box. He gave her an indulgent smile before leaving to find something to do in the city for the next few hours.  
  


* * *

  
Exactly two hours later saw Marinette cramped into the only, rather small, bathroom on the bus, doing her best to put the last minute touches on her makeup. Various cosmetics and hair products were scattered around the enclosed space, stuff she hadn’t gotten a chance to use once this entire trip. Dinner with Luka was more than an ample excuse to justify their continued existence on the bus however. One last sweep of bright red across her lips, the _pop!_ of her mouth smearing the color everywhere it needed to be, the final touch.  
  
“Well. . .” Marinette smiled at herself in the mirror, suddenly feeling nerves creeping over her skin.   
  
It was only _dinner_ .   
  
But it was dinner with Luka. It was dinner _alone_ with Luka. Tonight would be the true test of whether there was anything there or not between them. If all the back and forth flirting that went nowhere was ever going to amount to anything. And if there wasn’t, and it didn’t. . . Well Marinette would just have to learn to live working in close quarters with someone she had genuinely come to care about.  
  
“Knock ‘em dead, Marinette.”  
  
Shoving all the products littered around her into her toiletry bag with little care for their wellbeing at the moment, Marinette exited the bathroom and paused long enough to throw the bag on the pile of her belongings before making her way into the main part of the bus. She felt her breath catch when she found Luka waiting for her, and she took the small moment to observe him before he noticed her.  
  
Where had he gotten _that_ outfit?   
  
Marinette was pretty sure she had seen all the clothes everyone had brought with them on the trip. There wasn’t exactly a place to hide things on the bus after all, and she had seen everything by virtue of being the group's seamstress alone. She recognized the tight black jeans he was wearing at least, so black they might as well have been dress pants. The white henley she was fairly certain she’d seen before as well, at the very least she remembered quite enjoying the way it stretched tight across his chest. It had been the model for something she’d made him after all.  
  
But it was the simple grey suit jacket with three-quarter sleeves, something that kept it just casual enough, that she _knew_ was new. He definitely hadn’t packed _that_ . Which meant his errand earlier had involved going out and buying it. Which was sweet that he would make an effort and go out of his way to dress up for their dinner. Just as Marinette was allowing herself to enjoy following the hard lines of his legs, Luka finally turned enough to notice her in the doorway.  
  
“Marinette!”  
  
He was staring at her with his mouth slightly parted, pink starting to color his otherwise pale cheeks, as his eyes roved up and down her figure. Her outfit wasn’t anything elaborate either. A simple black a-line dress with everything above the collarbone made of a delicate see-through lace. It was the thigh-high white stockings that she was hoping would entice Luka to do more tonight than just kiss her on the forehead. Marinette wasn’t _totally_ oblivious, she remembered the way his eyes had lingered on her legs that first night they met.  
  
Luka finally seemed to gain some of his senses. “You look amazing,” he told her with a soft smile. Marinette returned it, walking up to him and slipping her hand in his as he led them both off the bus.  
  
Five blocks into the heart of London was all it took before Marinette was turning to him to begin peppering him with questions again. She had been near vibrating with restless energy every since they had left the bus, but so far she had been remarkably quiet.  
  
“Soooo,” she began, drawing the word out far longer than it needed to be. Luka found it cuter than it probably should have been. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”  
  
Luka chuckled, opting to answer her question with one of his own, “You don’t like surprises much, do you?”  
  
Marinette didn’t answer him for a minute, her mouth morphing into an adorable pout. “I don’t like surprises when I know there’s a surprise coming.”  
  
Luka nodded at her answer, filing it away in the back of his mind for future reference. They continued on with Luka humming quietly to every restaurant Marinette pointed out on the way in her effort of figuring out their destination. Finally they stopped outside of a colorful building had _Gloria_ written in elegant script glowing softly above the doorway.  
  
The hostess just inside the door led them through the waiting crowds when Luka gave his name, weaving her way through the tables already occupied with lively diners. He glanced behind him as they went, lips twitching at seeing Marinette staring in fascination around them, eyes darting from the plush colored rugs to the metallic ceiling that reflected back the many lights spotted over it. After assuring them that their waiter would be with them shortly, the hostess left them at their table.   
  
Luka pulled Marinette’s chair out, his cheeks coloring at her soft thanks. He had dated his fair share of women before, but he couldn’t remember a single time he’d gone so far as to pull out their seat for them. Then again, he’d never been somewhere as nice as this with any of them either. He rounded the table after she’d gotten comfortable and settled into his own chair before scooping up the menu to begin pursuing it.  
  
He was halfway through the drink list when Marinette started giggling, the noise wrapping around his brain and sticking. Luka raised an eyebrow at her in silent question as she slapped a hand over her mouth to silence the sound while her cheeks took on a stark red hue.  
  
“Sor- _sorry_ !” She whispered, lowering her pitch when the first few syllables were louder than she apparently anticipated. “It’s just. . .” She gestured at her own menu in exasperation before leaning across the table and tapping at a line on his own under the appetizer section.   
  
_Filippo’s Big Balls_ , he read slowly.  
  
Luka pursed his lips in his own effort not to chuckle as he read further, Marinette was still struggling to contain her own giggles. Slow-cooked meatballs in a San Marzano tomato sauce. They sounded delicious.  
  
“I know it’s juvenile, but it was just so out of place to see them on the menu!” She explained, hiding her persistent smile behind the edge of her menu.  
  
“Well maybe we should try them.” Luka’s suggestion sent Marinette into another fit of giggles and his lips quirked in a crooked smile in response, her laughter had been his intention. He would happily spend money if it meant Marinette got some sort of enjoyment out of it, to say nothing of how good they sounded.  
  
Their server finally put in an appearance, and they made their orders, wine and _Filippo’s Big Balls_ included.  
  


* * *

  
The dinner date had been amazing, much like Marinette had hoped it would be. They had stayed right up until closing, laughing over shared childhood stories, sampling the many Italian delicacies the restaurant offered, and indulging in the rich wines that were ever flowing. _Gloria_ had shooed them out eventually, long after the last customers besides themselves had left. She and Luka stumbled their way back to the hotel the record company had procured them rooms from. They didn’t even make it inside before Marinette was pushing Luka up against the brick exterior to claim his lips in a fevered kiss. If their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, then she wasn’t going to bother following him back to his hotel room. She’d rather slink back to the tour bus to nurse her bruised ego in peace.   
  
Luka had been receptive, more than receptive in fact. He'd returned her kiss with just as much enthusiasm, panting against her mouth and asking her if she wanted to come to his room for another drink. Her question about whether the hotel even had a mini-bar had brought on a round of giggles and a sheepish shrug from the guitarist. Marinette had nodded out her approval regardless. She was parched, but the drink she was thirsty for wasn’t alcohol.  
  
Luka led them to his room without any side tracks, but she had spent the entire trek up the stairs giggling like a schoolgirl. Mostly because she had been staring at his ass, which looked delectable in his tight jeans.   
  
As soon as the lock clicked in place behind them, Luke pressed her up against the door, boxing her in. Marinette could feel the hardwood of it against her back. The cheap grain scratched at her skin even through the material of her dress. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped it didn’t ruin her pretty dress, but with Luka’s lips pressed desperately against her own, and with his tongue massaging the length of hers, it was a small distant worry.  
  
Marinette’s arms slipped around his neck, her fingers tangling into the blue tips that just tickled the collar of his shirt. Luka’s own hands began inching down her sides, tickling at the sensitive skin through her clothing, he swallowed the giggle the feeling tore from her mouth. His entire hands nearly circled her waist as he paused for a moment, rubbing his thumbs leisurely just below her belly button. His hands traveled the rest of the way down her thighs to rest warm against the strip of skin just above her stockings before reversing and traveling back up and under her skirt to grip at her ass. His hands tightened and pulled, and with a quick hop Marinette wrapped her legs securely around his waist as he pressed her even tighter into the door.  
  
She wasn’t sure how much time passed like that, but she enjoyed the thrilling feeling that raced up and down her spine at the gentle massage Luka’s calloused fingers were giving the exposed skin of her backside. When the two of them finally parted for air, Luka laid his forehead against her shoulder, taking deep lungfuls of oxygen. He pivoted after a moment, still holding on to her, and though she doubted he would drop her, she still tightened her grip. When they reached the middle of the room, he hit the bed and she pitched backwards to fall almost bonelessly onto the soft bed. While the hotel had skimped on the door, the same couldn’t be said about the mattress.  
  
Luka fell with her, catching himself on his forearms before they crashed together. He grinned down at her impishly while looming over her in her space. Marinette scooted herself up until she was lounging against his pillows, one hand clutching at the soft material of his jacket to drag him along with her. Once she was comfortable, she started tugging his jacket off and after a moment of breathless laughter, Luka started helping her.  
  
“Eager, are we?” He quipped at her.  
  
Marinette gave him a mock glare, but refused to dignify him with an answer to such a ridiculous question. He was the one who had pinned her against the door after all.  
  
With the jacket finally removed and flung somewhere into the darkness of the hotel room, Marinette began working on Luka’s shirt, pulling it from where it had tucked itself into his jeans over the course of the night. Luka reared up over her, peeling it off and tossing it in the same direction as the jacket. She felt her mouth go dry when she could finally take in the sculpted lines of his chest close up without feeling like a peeping Tom.  
  
Luka eased himself back over her carefully, giving her a chaste kiss, before trailing light kisses across her cheek to the shell of her ear, “Like what you see?”  
  
Marinette gulped, only managing a small nod as her fingers traced the watercolor like lines of Sass’ tail wrapping around Luka’s bicep, sending visible tremors down his body. He laid one last chaste kiss right behind her ear before he started working his way down her neck, placing open mouth kisses that left her skin wet and tingly. She bit back a moan when he reached her shoulder where he peppered multiple kisses along the hard ridge of her collarbone. He scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin, sending shockwaves down her nerves that caused her toes to curl.   
  
Luka moved down her body far enough to lay a kiss right over where her heart was hammering in her chest, and Marinette thought she might tear up at the gesture. He gave her a wicked grin and began stalking back up her body but stopped just short of her lips, his own mouth hovering just out of reach.  
  
“You’re so beautiful, Marinette,” he whispered, the expelled air tickling over her kiss swollen lips.  
  
Normally, she’d appreciate the words. But right now, Marinette felt like she wanted to deck him in his pretty face if he didn’t start kissing her again _right now_ . She wrapped her arms around his neck and mirrored the action with her legs around his waist. She dragged their bodies together and swallowed the long groan he let out when their bodies connected. They kissed languidly for a few moments until the friction from rubbing against each other just wasn't enough anymore. She started to tell him to take her dress off, but Luka pulled back away from her.  
  
He separated their bodies, holding his shaking one away from hers and burying his face in her shoulder to pant and catch his breath. Frustrated, Marinette’s hands went to the side buttons on her dress, but Luka’s hand wrapping around her tiny wrist and tugging stops her.  
  
Marinette felt like she’d been dunked in ice water. Why were they stopping? She had seen the way he looked at her. Hell he had to have noticed the way she looked at him half the time. Physically they clearly wanted it, so why wasn’t she good enough? She felt her face heat up from embarrassed rejection, rather than the heated arousal she had been feeling just moments ago. She started trying to scoot herself out from under Luka’s body, but his grip on her was tight, and he refused to let her go anywhere.  
  
“No, just. . . I’m sorry, Marinette.”  
  
She finally turned to look at him, doing her best to try and keep her face carefully neutral and not let him in on any of the distress she was feeling at the moment. She must have failed in some way, because Luka’s blue eyes softened, and he leaned forward to lay another chaste kiss on her forehead.  
  
Marinette was _s_ _ick_ of chaste kisses.  
  
“I want you, Marinette. Trust me, I _want_ you.” Luka clarified, gesturing to himself sheepishly as he sat up on his knees. He climbed totally off her and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, turned away from her and hunched over.  
  
“I really like you, Marinette, but-” she felt her heart clench at his words, “I don’t want some seedy motel after our first date, where we drank quite a bit, to be our first time.”  
  
The fingers that had slowly been closing around her heart released their strangling grip as understanding settled in her brain. Marinette could understand his reasoning, respect it perhaps, even if she didn’t personally give a damn about where they did the deed so long as they _did_ the deed. As far as she was concerned, they had been on edge almost since meeting each other. She didn’t say anything as Luka stood up and made his way over to a small overnight bag and began digging through it.  
  
“Do you want to stay here tonight? I’ve got some clothes you can sleep in.” His voice sounded small and unsure. As if he was scared of what her answer would be, scared of what her reaction would be. He still hadn’t even glanced at her.  
  
Marinette couldn’t help but smile after a moment of thought. She’d come out tonight totally intent on seducing Luka into bed and putting them both out of their misery. Ever the gentleman, he had put a stop to it before it had gotten too far, but he also hadn’t said no. Scooting herself off the bed, she padded silently up to the still crouched musician. She laid herself out over his back, feeling his body tense up under her own. Resting her chin on his shoulder, Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulder and continued to smile, despite the fact that Luka couldn’t even see her from this angle.   
  
“I’d love to stay the night,” she finally told him.   
  
With each passing second after that, Marinette could feel the hard lines of Luka’s body slowly relax until he was just a steady presence keeping her up. She reached out and snatched up the over-sized shirt he was holding loosely in his hands, but purposefully left the sweatpants he had draped over one of his knees. She seriously doubted they would fit even if she had wanted to wear them. No matter what he said, she was still determined to give it one last go.  
  
Marinette laid a light kiss against the pulse point steadily beating in his neck, delighting in the little shiver that danced over his body in response, before sliding off of him and standing back up to make her way into the attached bathroom.  
  
“I’ll just get changed then,” she said before closing the door behind her, leaving it unlocked.  
  
With quick fingers, Marinette undid the shiny row of buttons that marched up her side, keeping her dress closed. She let it slip off her body to fall in a pile around her feet. Holding up the shirt, she grinned at the faded tour information of a Jagged Stone concert from many years ago. Pulling it over her head, she turned to the mirror to give herself a slow look over.  
  
The make up could go. As much as Luka seemed to enjoy her bold colors, she wasn’t about to risk her pores by wearing it overnight. The chiffon knot her hair was in she slowly pulled apart, leaving her hair to fall around her shoulders in artificial waves brought on by being twisted together for hours. The stockings. . . Marinette smirked. The stockings could stay.  
  
After washing her face and brushing her teeth with the hotel provided toiletries, Marinette flipped off the light and opened the door. The bedside lamp was on now, and Luka was back to perching on the side of the bed, now wearing the sweatpants she had rejected earlier. She was pleased to see he had foregone a shirt, if he even had an extra one that was, leaving his upper body on display for her viewing pleasure.  
  
Luka’s eyes flickered over to her, zeroing in on her legs that now had much more skin exposed with the band shirt being shorter than her dress by a good few inches. Marinette watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as his fist clenched and unclenched on his thighs. She hadn’t even taken two steps to the bed before he was rushing past her into the bathroom to finish his own nightly rituals.  
  
Marinette shook her head with an amused smile before busying herself turning down the comforter for the both of them. She waited until he had come back out of the bathroom and slipped under the blanket, patting the spot next to him. He was still refusing to look at her. Marinette crawled onto the bed, sliding herself under his arm and throwing one of her legs over his own.   
  
He didn’t take the bait though, instead sliding them both further under the blanks and pulling it up over their shoulders. Luka wrapped both of his arms around her and tucked her into his side. Marinette huffed in mild annoyance, miffed that she hadn’t been able to convince him to renege on his earlier insistence. But he was warm pressed against her, and the alcohol they had drank at dinner was still a pleasant veil over her mind. She didn’t fight it when the darkness of slumber slowly crept over her.  
  


* * *

  
Two and a half months. Seventy-six and a quarter days to be exact.  
  
That was how long Marinette had managed to avoid interacting with Félix. She went out of her way to avoid him. She was sure he did the exact same thing. She made no effort to ensure the clothing she was required to make for him even fit right. If they were too tight, or too loose, well he wasn’t technically part of the band now was he? And she was under contract to dress the _band_ , not uppity little shits from London.  
  
Seventy-six days was a good record in her mind. Though she had been hoping to go the entirety of the tour without saying a single word to him. He avoided her like the plague and she returned the favor. Marinette had never seen him even talk to any of the other members of the band either. Avoiding him was easy, especially because he chose to spend the majority of this time locked away in his own travel accommodations.  
  
But Félix, little shit from London that he was, just had to go and ruin her streak.  
  
He cornered her on the night of the seventy-sixth day, not even an hour before the start of the next concert. Everyone on the crew was backstage at the newest venue, busy setting up. Luka and the rest of the _La Mar en Été_ were going through a small rehearsal out on the stage, turning their instruments to the acoustics of the building. Félix boxed her into a little alcove right off the stage with her back facing it so she couldn’t see anyone else.  
  
He was once again leaning over her, reminiscent of that night in the bar many months ago. He didn’t have that stupid leer on his face this time, which was a plus, but Marinette didn’t buy the friendly smile he was trying to put forward either. Something was off about it, something mean, but she couldn’t pinpoint what.  
  
“What do you want, _Félix_?” There was more bite to her words than she really intended to put there, but she wasn’t exactly enjoying being crowded into a corner by him again. She didn’t even really want to be _talking_ to him. If anyone was going to pin her into dark alcoves, it was going to be Luka.  
  
Félix just kept smiling at her, appearing unaffected by her blatant hatred. “Look, I feel bad about how we hit it off.”  
  
Hit it off was an apt choice of words. Marinette was fairly certain she had broken his nose that night. She was sort of surprised that he, or the company, had never retaliated against her in that time. They even went so far as to hire her. Especially when he was related to Adrien Agreste, who was much more connected and famous than his doppleganger cousin. Maybe he had simply never told anyone, the shame of being beat up by a _girl_ too much. It was just their little secret. Hers, Félix’s, and Luka’s.  
  
“I want to make it up to you,” he continued, as if she wasn’t glaring daggers at him the entire time. “I’ve seen the way you look at my cousin.”  
  
Who _didn’t_ look at Adrien Agreste like that though? He was handsome, he was rich, and he was famous. A sweetheart from what little interaction she had had with him. He was the media’s darling. He was famous in his own right despite having two equally famous parents. One would have to be blind to not look at Adrien Agreste.   
  
“I happen to know he’s single, and I’d like to set you guys up on a date as an apology.”  
  
Marinette’s brain slowly ground to a halt.  
  
 _Her_? On a _date_? With _Adrien Agreste_?   
  
Her brain kicked back into gear as the dying notes of Luka’s guitar jump started her thought process again.   
  
Even if she went into this with no intention of ever seeing the singer again, which she didn’t as she was perfectly happy trying with Luka, it was far too good of an opportunity to pass up. Adrien’s father was Gabriel Agreste, the founder of her _dream_ fashion house. Having any type of relationship with Adrien was the perfect stepping stone to getting her foot in that door. Surely Luka would understand if she just explained she was going only to set up an acquaintance. He would understand that you had to sacrifice for your dreams, and a single night was nothing in the scheme of things.  
  
But why was Félix helping her? Marinette’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe his smile for a single second, nor did she really believe that he had forgiven her for turning down his advances. It was easy to see in the way that he moved and the way he talked to everyone that he thought he was above the common people. And to him, everyone was a common person.  
  
“What do you get out of it?” she finally asked.  
  
For an instant that nasty look that he always sported, the one that said ‘you are beneath me and it’s an annoyance to even talk to you’ flitted across his face. But it was there and gone in the blink of an eye, and Marinette wasn’t sure if she had seen it just because she didn’t want to believe him, or because it had really been there. Then the smile was back, his face as smooth as glass.  
  
“I told you, I feel badly and wanted to apologize,” he continued to insist, his eyes flickering over her shoulder and then back to her face just as fast.  
  
Marinette still didn’t believe him, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt like she just had to take the chance. Luka would understand. He had to.  
  
“When?” She finally asked.  
  
Félix finally stood up from towering over her, “I’ll introduce you two at the wrap party, he already agreed to come.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder again, the nasty smirk she had come to know stretching across his face, before he turned to go without a word. Marinette watched him go, wondering if she had made the right decision. When she turned back to the stage, Luka was gone.  
  


* * *

  
Luka was avoiding her, that much was certain.  
  
Why he was avoiding her, she didn’t know. The show had gone off without a hitch from what she had seen, but rather than coming over and kissing her as he had done after every show since their date, Luka had stormed off the other side of the stage without so much as a word to anyone else. Neither Alix or Marc had any answers, and Juleka had just said that he needed time, her eyes colder than they had ever been. Time for what though, the seamstress _also_ didn’t know.  
  
Marinette waited exactly a half an hour after the show before knocking softly on Luka’s dressing room door and opening it only when there was no answer. It was pitch black inside. Confused, she flicked on the light switch and swept her eyes over the room. Luka wasn’t there, and neither was any of his stuff. All of her things were still in a pile on the couch where she had dropped them when the band had arrived hours ago, but any evidence that the lead of _La Mar en Été_ had used this room was conspicuously absent.  
  
Just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, Marinette knocked on the bathroom door as well. It opened with little resistance and was just as dark inside as the dressing room itself had been. Beginning to feel both hurt and exasperated at Luka’s disappearing act, she slowly began gathering up her own bags and before leaving the room at a subdued pace.  
  
Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he said anything? A multitude of questions ran through her mind. They had been kissing and laughing together right before he had gone on stage to warm up, and they hadn’t exchanged so much as a word since then. What had happened in between that time?  
  
Climbing onto the bus, she wasn’t surprised to find Juleka already passed out in her own bunk. Marc and Alix were in the main part of the vehicle, relaxing and playing a video game. But again Luka was nowhere to be found.   
  
Stowing her bags in her own bunk, Marinette left the bus again, pausing to talk to the crew member who was always standing nearby on watch.  
  
“Excuse me, sir?” she asked. The man turned to give her his full attention. “Can you tell me if Luka’s been back to the bus yet? I didn’t see him in the building.”  
  
The roadie jutted his chin out towards the exit of the parking lot, pointing to a cluster of buildings across the street. “He went that way. I think I saw him walk into the middle building over there.”  
  
Marinette gave the man her thanks before hurrying across the street. When she approached the building in the middle she was surprised to see it was a bar. Only half of the letters above the weathered door were lit, shining a sickly yellow into the night. She pulled the door open, grimacing when her hand came away sticky.  
  
The inside of the establishment was just as dingy as the door was. The overhead lighting was dull, and when she looked up she saw the glass had been clouded over by years of cigarette smoke, just like the windows that no longer allowed any outside light in. There were barely any other patrons this late at night. A few solitary men scattered around the high tops, nursing their lonely drinks. A pair was hunched over a broken pool table in the corner, their arguing carried through the otherwise quiet bar.  
  
Luka was easy to find. His blue hair was like a beacon in the melancholy building. He was perched on a stool at the end of the bar, hunched over his own half-empty glass. As Marinette approached him, her concern grew. There were already two other empty glasses in front of him. Gently she laid a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t even turn to look at her until she opened her mouth and softly called his name.  
  
“Luka.”  
  
Slowly he twisted to look at her, a carefully blank look on his face. Luka didn’t say anything, downing the last of his drink and slamming the glass back to the countertop, causing the other glasses to rattle in protest. Like a ghost the bartender appeared, resting another full glass at Luka’s elbow, accepting the money the guitarist slid across the bar to him.  
  
Luka took a swig, polishing off a quarter of his drink before finally addressing her, “What do you want, Marinette?”  
  
The blankness in his voice startled her. Before, Luka’s voice had always been so warm, so bright and sweet. Now he sounded more like his sister, Juleka. A carefully neutral tone that betrayed no emotion. Marinette pulled her hand away, frowning at him in confusion.  
  
“What are you doing over here?” she asked. “You ran off after the show, and I haven’t seen you since.”  
  
Luka made a dismissive noise at her questions, turning back to hunch over the bar and swallow more of his drink. Marinette was beginning to grow worried.  
  
“Oh you know, just drowning my miseries.” His answer made no sense to Marinette. What was there to be miserable about? They had been happy and making out no more than two hours ago! How could things change so drastically in such a short amount of time?  
  
Hopping up on the bar stool next to him, Marinette reached out and gently pried Luka’s fingers off his glass to pull it out of his grasp and closer to her. She was grateful when he didn’t seem to protest the action; she knew plenty of belligerent drunks.  
  
“Luka,” she started softly, “please talk to me.”  
  
His response was instant and biting. “Go talk to your boyfriend!”  
  
What? Now Marinette was thoroughly confused. Though they hadn’t put it in so many words, she had been fairly certain that her and Luka had been dating. Or at least they had been approaching that fact.  
  
“What are you talking about, Luka? You’re my boyfriend.” Or at least she had hoped he was.  
  
Luka rounded on her, his face full of hurt and anger, his voice dripped venom. “I was never your boyfriend! You were just some rock star _groupie_ I kept around to keep the party going!”  
  
Marinette was stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing but releasing no sound. Her brain struggled to process exactly what Luka had just spewed at her, let alone formulate a reply. Distantly, as sounds began catching back up with her, she realized Luka had been talking the entire time and she hadn’t heard a single word of it after his initial outburst. He was still glaring at her, but she didn’t see the hurt in his eyes anymore, just the simmering anger. Her mouth snapped shut and he turned away from her, taking his drink back to grip it in trembling hands.  
  
“Just go away, Dupain-Cheng.” Luka raised the glass, ready to polish another one off. “You probably weren’t even a good lay.”  
  
The stool she had been sitting on clattered to the floor when she abruptly stood, her hand stinging from where it had connected with his cheek. Never once in all their interactions had Luka called her anything other than Marinette. And to hear the total dismissal of her last name nailed what he had been saying deep into her heart. He was staring wide-eyed at something past her, his cheek slowly reddening, and his drink dribbling to the floor from where it had spilled onto the bar top.  
  
“Fuck you, Couffaine,” Marinette bit out, hoping that the heartbreak she was feeling was buried deep under the loathing she felt for Luka at this very moment.  
  
She left him where he was, staring at some unknown spot on a far wall, letting the bar door slam behind her. Marinette stormed across the street and back onto the tour bus, fighting the tears that threatened to escape the entire way. She made a beeline for the beds in the rear, not even bothering to mumble out a reply to Marc and Alix’s concerned questions. Shoving her pile of things from earlier to the end of the bed, she slipped under the covers and rolled towards the wall, only to be confronted with the picture of herself and Luka smiling at the bar.  
  
The tears started in earnest, blurring the hard edges of the picture. Marinette ripped it off the wall, feeling it crumple in her clenched fist. Even after everything that had happened, she still didn’t want to give it up. Her tense fingers eased, and she stared down at the picture for a long moment before raising it and ripping it down the middle before she could rethink her decision. Letting the pieces fall in the crack between the bed and the wall, where it could stay forever for all she cared, Marinette curled into a ball under her comforter, muffling her sobs as well as she could.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to [Cass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagansjagger/works) for her beta'ing.
> 
> Join us on the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) to engage with the fandom community and participate in monthly events.


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